Oddballs
by CalebKing
Summary: 100 drabbles about Kyouya and Haruhi, from the challenge at 100 Situations. Under renovation right now; expect a few new chapters when the construction is done.
1. AU: Deception 32

Welcome back to Oddballs!

The re-organization works like this: first is the **Alternate Universe** drabbles (labelled '**AU**') and later **Canon** **Universe** drabbles ('**CU**'). A few chapters that were originally published will not be included; they have been replaced with a new drabble using the challenge word, and a few series will get a last or extra installment as they go back up.

For clarification, the drop down menu for chapters goes: '**Series Name**: **Challenge Word** & **Challenge #**'. The numbers correspond with the original challenge chart; there's no special meaning other than to help me keep my records straight.

Thank you, thank you, for everyone's comments, critique and encouragements! They carried me through the four years of finishing this challenge. I hope this more rational order will encourage you to read back through!

* * *

Social Lies

When Kyouya first met Fujioka Haruhi, she had a ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

Five minutes later, she was being introduced as his best friend's fiancé.

_Surely, _he thought a little later in the evening, _Surely five minutes are not **that** distracting._

She _had_ to be stupid, if only for accepting Tamaki's proposal, he reasoned, knowing the other man's annoying traits very well.

_Was she after his money? _Kyouya wondered, examining her polite, if not politely bored, expression. Tamaki, on the other hand, was beaming, more excited than ever.

Kyouya watched Fujioka-san watching Tamaki for a moment and then she sighed, turning to the side to chat with the heir of the Haninozuka family. Kyouya's gaze sharpened – she looked much livelier talking to the sugar-addicted munchkin than she had when speaking with anyone surrounding Tamaki.

Kyouya decided that joining Tamaki's circle might actually prove interesting this time.

_There isn't even an effort being made to hide how different the level of their affections are_, he thought a half-hour later, and didn't know what conclusions to draw from that observation.

Two hours later, Kyouya had a pounding headache from trying to pry information out of the blond. Tamaki would only sing her praises, never revealing exactly _who _she was; if she had family, he'd never heard of them, and why such an unknown seemed less than... thrilled to be marrying into one of the most powerful and rich families in Japan remained a frustrating mystery. He considered giving up and going home, but that would mean Tamaki had successfully concealed information from him.

Of course Kyouya had considered using various methods to look up her information - both his cell phones had internet access which could connect him to his personal information software - but there was no challenge in using a shortcut, when there was someone with information standing right in front of him. And he wondered if, in the end, there would even be _anything_ of import to be discovered about her.

"Tamaki," called a low voice at his side, and Kyouya started slightly, as the unexpected interruption to his thoughts was now standing beside him.

"I'm heading home," Miss Fujioka told Tamaki, touching his arm lightly before turning away; Tamaki, however, dropped the conversation he had been holding and flew after her. Kyouya looked on with a disgusted shudder as the young woman made muted strangling noises at his tight embrace.

"I'll walk you home!" Tamaki announced gallantly, and Kyouya watched with the same curiosity that had plagued him all evening as she skillfully peeled the heir off, and gave him a tired glare.

"I'm getting a _taxi._ You know it's too far to walk. And I have a case in the morning, so you don't need to keep me company," she said, defeating him on all counts before Tamaki could protest, managing the blond with more acumen than Kyouya had ever witnessed from a female before. He became aware of the twins' speculative glances nearby. Perhaps another half-hour of interrogation wouldn't hurt…

* * *

When he stumbled across Fujioka three weeks later, he almost didn't recognize her.

A brown, no-nonsense suit fit her slender build, and her hair was drawn tightly back with bobby pins that blended in seemlessly. Until their eyes had met, she'd appeared almost grim, eyes serious beneath furrowed brows, just another figure standing still in the midst of hundreds rushing to work and meetings.

She blinked a bit when she spotted him, the small smile of recognition starling him into realizing that even as starched as she appeared now, she still managed to somehow be amazingly attractive. He scoffed at his own thoughts; Tamaki would never pick a dud.

Her smile seemed to welcome his joining her across the busy floor, so he did. He _was_ still curious, after all.

"How are you, Miss Fujioka?" he asked politely; Kyouya only ever dropped his ingrained manners when in the middle of a corporate fight.

"Fine," she replied easily, her deep voice catching him off guard yet again. If her face hadn't been so delicate, he could have mistaken her for a man in those clothes. And _why_ could he never correctly remember what her voice sounded like?

"Are you waiting for someone?" he asked, probing gently.

She gave him another small smile. "Yes. It seems Tamaki hasn't broken his habit of being late to everything, even after all these years." Her phrasing caught his attention.

"Oh?" he murmured casually. "You've known him long?"

She nodded, the faintest of smiles on her lips as though remembering a specific memory. "Our mothers used to be friends."

Accelerated footsteps indicated Tamaki's rushed arrival.

"I'm sorry, Haruhi!" he apologized, looking ready to cry for his tardiness.

"It's fine." She brushed off the eminent speech with little effort. "My next meeting got pushed back an hour." She began digging through the heavy briefcase at her side. "Here you go. And make sure you don't lose it; your father would murder you," she warned him, dropping a small diamond ring into his palm.

A ring Kyouya couldn't help but recognize.

"Haruhi," the other man whined. "Couldn't you just... keep it?"

Her calm, good-natured expression went out the window. Miss Fujioka scowled at him, hands reflexively going to her hips. "You promised it was only for one night, remember? We are _not _getting married. **_Remember, Tamaki?_**"

Tamaki's responding wail was ignored, unnoticed, as Kyouya's brain went into overdrive. _This, _he thought, _was **quite** interesting._

* * *

A/N: I love turning the three of them loose on each other.


	2. AU: Matchmaker 101

Marriage Schemes

Kyouya Ootori was bored. Or rather, he was irritated.

However, he had promised his father that he was willing and able to do his duty by the family, and so he had no one but himself to complain to. Despite this very rational view, he _did _complain to himself, aloud, in the back of his limo - after first making sure the privacy screen was up. He even re-enforced it a bit with his own power, just so that he could fully vent his anger.

By the time they arrived at the matchmaker's, he was calm again. Outwardly, at least.

There was no arguing with Fate, after all, and Kyouya Ootori knew how real and fickle Fate was. He actually rather liked her, on the few occasions they had crossed paths, but that was likely because he had been watching someone else suffer her designs. Now that she'd turned her wiles on him, he'd just have to run damage control over the fallout.

He checked in at the front desk, received his personal files and cord and listened with half an ear as the cheerful secretary told him how to get to his designated meeting room. He dismissed Tachibana, preferring to wait by himself for his father to arrive, and set off down the hall.

Fashioned like the old-style inns, the shoji stretched on for as far as the eye could see. The muffled sound of conversations filtered through the rice paper as he walked past; the shadows of moving clients on the other side lent further mystery to the place.

But no matter how long the halls were, Kyouya still felt he arrived at his destination far too soon. There was no getting around the meeting, however, so he slid open the door, toed out of his shoes and entered the inner room. And met a startled pair of brown eyes.

No, he corrected himself, hazel. They were too light to be brown, and too wide for his taste. Still, at least they were attractive. The pale pink kimono was simple, but suited her. Modest, which wasn't the modern style, but he appreciated it, compared to what he _had _been expecting. Her hair had been styled in a formal bun, leaving her slender neck bare. _Much_ different than what he had expected, and somehow he found himself liking that.

He clicked through these thoughts in a moment, quickly masking his surprise by giving the traditional bow in greeting.

"How do you do? Please excuse me; I hadn't expected you to arrive so soon."

He straightened back up in time to catch the confused wrinkle that flickered between her eyes, but she seemed to dismiss it after a moment and instead bowed in return from her kneeling position beside the low table.

"No, sensei, I'm sorry; I must have mistaken the time we were scheduled to meet."

He checked for a moment at being addressed by the unusual title, but didn't allow his frown to reach his mouth. Perhaps his father had exaggerated how far his schooling at gone; while he would receive his doctorate next fall, it wasn't _exactly_ the same as being a medical doctor. But exaggeration was common enough in these practices, he reflected wryly.

He knelt across from her, and noticed the other two cushions.

"Are you parents not here?" he asked, surprised at the absence. She shot him a discerning look, and then shook her head, causing the metal beads that dangled from her chignon to chime lightly.

"My father stepped outside for a moment. He gets restless easily," she explained, and he nodded, relieved. At least she wasn't so forward as to come early _and _by herself. "Forgive me, I should have asked: Would you like some tea?"

_So that's how it will be,_ he thought, somewhat disappointed that she would rush into the ritualistic tea.

"Tea would be pleasant," he replied, and watched as she poured with grace, if not precision. Her father had exaggerated her eloquence and training then, but that too was to be expected.

He brought the cup up with a familiar hand, pausing when he caught a whiff of the steam. Interest filtered into his eyes, and he broke from the ritual to ask, "What blend is this?"

The young woman blinked with surprise, and then smiled shyly. He considered that the match might not be _all_ bad.

"My mother's favorite blend; I'd be glad to share the recipe with you sometime."

He nodded, and then took a first sip - it was as good as it had advertised to his nose. He relaxed back into the routine, and poured out her cup. She drank, and sighed with pleasure, too.

Kyouya picked up his folder, so that he could pull out his cord to lay it on the table. It was steel-colored, and he considered that the matchmaker might not just be a professional, but actually _good_ at her job. He had never claimed a favorite color as other people were wont to, but the color of the silk cord felt _right_, imbued with his particular power and essence.

The young woman had also drawn hers forth, a surprising blood red that made him think of life; quite an accomplishment, considering that all the blood he usually saw in his father's hospital only made him think of death and illness.

"Perhaps you will want to look over my credentials again?" she suggested, but he shook his head. The decision had ultimately already been made, and he found himself almost looking forward to it, rather than feeling the dread that had been haunting him for days. It occurred to him that he should wait for their fathers' presence before completing the bonding, but he was struck by the sudden urge to do the thing in private, just between them. It wasn't as if anything else about the process had been private. Which had grated on Kyouya's admittedly limited nerves.

He picked up her cord, wondering if it was just his imagination that it felt warm to the touch. His own was cool - but that could also be part of his nature. He twisted the two cords, starting from one end of the silks, going more by instinct than knowledge of _this_ part of the ritual, and the silks obligingly twisted together, melding their individual power and essences. He felt a brief warmth in his chest, and tried not to let the romantic thoughts that hovered actually hit his brain.

She looked a bit surprised too, perhaps by whatever sensation his half had caused her to feel, though her posture never faltered. Thank Fate at least she was the calm type, he reflected. Usually, Fate played on her more fickle and mischief-minded side when it came to the Ootori clan. And this would mark the first time Kyouya hadn't wriggled out of her plans.

It could be much, much worse.

The thought was reversed not two seconds later when his father's voice came from the hallway, calling him.

"Over here, Father," he responded, breaking eye contact with his new lady, and turned to see not his usual, immaculate father, but one looking on the verge of apoplexy.

"What are you doing in _there_?" the elder Ootori nearly bellowed, and Kyouya felt the first stirrings of unease.

"Merely following your orders; I've met with the lady as you requested." Yoshio Ootori looked baffled at Kyouya's response, eyes flying from his son to the young woman next to him.

"Kyouya," he said, voice strangled. "That is _not_ the young lady you are supposed to be meeting."

Kyouya's head whipped around to meet the wide hazel eyes again, looking as surprised as he felt.

"Oh," she remarked calmly, and tugged at the end of her kimono sleeve in a distracted, nervous gesture. "I did wonder why you were so young."

For a moment, Kyouya closed his eyes, considering the ramifications of his colossal mistake.

"Perhaps introductions are in order, then," he said, mild voice at odds with the battle raging inside him.

"Yes, of course!" she responded hastily, bowing from the waist. "I am Haruhi Fujioka; I'm here to meet with Satou-sensei about a job with his firm."

Kyouya gave a helpless chuckle; Fate had outdone herself this time, but he just might thank her...

"I am Kyouya Ootori. I'm here to meet my arranged bride."

Miss Fujioka's wide eyes became even larger, but before she could respond to that doubler, the door behind her slid open and a lanky man with long hair stepped in.

"Haruhi, you really should see the garden..." he trailed off at seeing the other two men, and Kyouya didn't miss the way his gaze sharpened on them, and then on the table. Kyouya bowed slightly to the man he assumed to be Haruhi's father, and gestured to the table, bringing his father's attention to it as well.

"I'm afraid we've had a slight mix-up; however, if your daughter is willing to consider it, I would be happy to honor my side of the promise."

His father's face was turning red, and he couldn't even feel bad about it. He was amused now, and almost happy, which meant his decision about this mess had been made. He poured another cup of tea for his betrothed's father, who sat down carefully, eyes resting consideringly on him.

In the hallway, his father bellowed for the staff, and the matchmaker herself, but Kyouya doubted much could be done about the entwined silks. They had been carefully made and given; he had joined them with a particular purpose in mind, and she had willingly released hers to him. The powers that had formed the ritual were too strong to be overcome easily, and he had no intention of over-setting them.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Fujioka," he said, his low voice carrying to her beneath his father's louder voice. She smiled faintly as though in acknowledgment of what he wasn't saying, and held out her hand to shake in the more modern style of greeting. Instead, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed it, surprised to find that he really meant the archaic gesture. She blinked, flushed, and reclaimed her hand. But she didn't reject his overture.

"Will it give you trouble explaining this to your potential employer?" he asked smoothly, and watched as she seriously considered his question.

"Yes," she finally answered, and he felt a quick burst of satisfaction at her honesty. "But probably less trouble than trying to break our cords."

He wondered when it would be appropriate to kiss her, and not just her hand.

"Is there a time you would like to set for this engagement? I can't imagine your family accepting a small wedding," she said seriously, and he was gratified to know that she had recognized his name, but had not changed the way she was treating him from before. Mr. Fujioka sighed, but finally joined the conversation.

"You should know that Haruhi's involvement in something like a wedding will be minimal; a less feminine female I've yet to find." His gaze met Kyouya's, and the younger man knew he had not judged wrong. Those eyes were piercingly observant. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

Kyouya didn't miss his double meaning, but he had only to consider the twined cords, her, and his father still yelling in the hall behind them.

Kyouya smiled. Yes, he'd have to thank Fate indeed.


	3. AU: Night 9

Strangers in the Fog

The icy fog hung low over the streets of the city, limiting his view to just a few meters in front of him.

The chilly atmosphere would have given a lesser man a case of nerves, but Kyouya found the inhospitable weather to his liking.

Certainly few of the townspeople would be out at this time of night, and he would have plenty of warning should anyone approach.

His every step crunched through the thin layer of ice that had frozen on the ground, but it was a kind of ice that was more slush than solid. No sudden slips would give him trouble if things got messy.

A faint sound up ahead caught his sharp attention; though he was expecting someone, there was no telling who had been sent to meet him.

When a short, squat figure became clearer through the fog, his brows rose.

He hadn't expected _her_, of all people; he'd figured her declaration months ago had been the end of her interactions with their type of associates.

Though truthfully, he was more astonished that he'd managed to recognize her when she was bundled in so many layers.

The coat's lapels were up, a thick scarf wrapped around her lower face and ears to keep warm. Thick-lensed glasses were nearly as fogged as the street, obscuring his view of the intelligent brown eyes he knew from keen memory lurked behind the glass.

He had a moment to wonder if _she'd_ known he would be the liaison, before he was close enough for her to see him clearly.

The drawn-out pause when she looked up gave him a good idea she hadn't known, and her first words confirmed it.

"Of course Tamaki would send you," she said, managing to sound irritated and resigned at once.

He inclined his head in silent agreement. It wouldn't do to let down his guard with Haruhi, as he had learned from bitter experience.

"Do you have the package?" he asked coolly, hoping to get the business over and done.

She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her winter coat, and despite himself his breath hitched. He hoped she hadn't noticed.

Haruhi withdrew a bulky package of papers, folded in half.

"Here." Her breath turned to smoke in the freezing air, and he was conscious of his hand moving through the miniature cloud to grasp the papers.

She was quick to re-button the coat as he tore open the ties, and he reminded himself that it was below freezing - and Haruhi had never been good with the cold.

He read quickly through the summary on the first page, and then nearly dropped them all.

"Wha-What is-? Is this some kind of joke?" he demanded harshly, only a lifetime's worth of control keeping him from grabbing her with unrestrained violence.

Haruhi let out a breath he hadn't realized she'd been holding, creating another cloud.

"You didn't know. Thank goodness."

"How could I have?" he all but raged, previous self-control now utterly lost. "Do you really think I'd care so little to stand chatting -!"

Haruhi looked her apology, and then the worry that had been lurking at the back of her eyes since he had first walked up dominated her delicate face.

He blinked, a little stunned by the raw emotion that spilled across her features, strain emphasizing the faint wrinkles that had started appearing on her face a few years back.

Kyouya could count on one hand the number of times she had been so open or vulnerable in front of him.

"What is it?" he asked, sudden urgency filling him at her unusual behavior.

"Perhaps I shouldn't -," she began uncertainly.

He grabbed her upper arm, destroying the distance they'd both maintained between them until then.

"Haruhi, you are _not_ going to leave me with only papers to explain."

He hadn't meant to use his business voice, but it had naturally rumbled out. He didn't apologize, though, and after a brief hesitation she nodded.

"I thought there must be a reason for Tamaki to insist on my coming; I just hoped that you already knew, that you had already been busy… looking."

Kyouya's lips pinched together in pain.

"I've been... gone," he admitted. "I didn't know - hadn't heard."

She nodded absently. "Of course, we've kept it out of the news."

Her eyes suddenly shot up to his.

"Will you - would you mind? If I came with you?"

For a long moment he was frozen, startled by the hope that leapt into his chest, scared to presume her meaning. But when she didn't withdraw the question or modify it, he knew it was the chance he had been waiting for. Waiting a good, long while for.

"I could never mind," he responded truthfully. "I would never have wished for this to happen, but Haruhi, you need to know: I won't let you walk away when this is over."

She met the determination in his steel-gray eyes and slowly nodded.

"All right. I suppose I've always known you wouldn't stay away for good."

He smiled grimly. "Very likely not."

It was a moment's work to slip the packet into one of his pockets, and then he wrapped an arm about her shoulders to turn her in the direction of the dock.

He bent over familiar short brown hair.

"But first let's find our daughter."


	4. AU: Blood

Blood+ (Ouran Style)

The demon tore up the side of a metal dumpster with one clawed hand, scrounging for rotting food.

Several floors up, emotionless gray eyes watched his progress.

There was the slightest sound on the rooftop behind the watcher; in a moment a petite, dark-haired female stepped up beside him.

"Another one?" she asked rhetorically. "Has he infected anyone else?"

The owner of the gray eyes shook his head, and reached for the sword hanging on his back. It was longer than a standard katana, with unique grooves cut periodically along its length. His slender build concealed the sword until it was needed.

Without taking her deep red eyes off the demon below, the female held out her hand expectantly.

The smallest curve upturned the man's lips; then he set the sword hilt firmly in her palm.

With unconscious grace she held the sword in front of herself and ran her left hand along the top edge, and watched with clinical detachment as her blood flowed into the hollows. When the opposite edge of her blade dripped with blood, her eyes flicked back down to the demon.

"Let's go," she murmured, and he was half a beat behind her jump, letting part of himself loose at the first moment of free fall.

The wind cut through their clothes for the few seconds it took to reach the ground, and then they were breaking through it, creating their own breeze as they raced to where the demon crouched.

The blood-soaked blade cut through the demon's unsuspecting back; an anguished howl broke the quiet night.

Kyouya leapt out of the way of swiping claws. Teeth followed it, and he smashed a fist no longer human into its head.

The thing grunted, caught off-balanced, and Haruhi jabbed her blade into its neck, flipping herself up into the air to be able to throw all her weight into the angled sword.

The demon's knees hit the concrete with a dull crunch, the rest of its body quickly following.

Haruhi jerked her blade free, splattering herself with blood in the process. She didn't seem to notice, too focused on whether the demon was really nullified.

Kyouya sighed silently at seeing her pale skin flecked with blood (and other, unmentionable substances).

Her father already distrusted Kyouya's involvement in her life; he would have to make sure she was cleaned up before taking her home.

A shout from the other side of the building alerted Kyouya to incoming company.

Were it not for the long years of waiting he'd already endured, Kyouya would have dispensed with her clinging human companions on day one.

Another shout, this time clearly the girl's adopted name, echoed across the grounds, and then the boy was racing around the corner, face desperate - then changing to horror at seeing Haruhi standing over the bulky corpse.

"Haru-chan!"

The girl jerked at hearing his voice, and her eyes flickered from red to brown, confusion bleeding in with the change in color.

Kyouya moved in a moment later to sweep her up as she fainted, and he met the boy's glare for only a moment before leaping up to the rooftop again, girl and sword clutched in his arms.

He made a quick stop by the river to wash her face and arms. With practice he had learned to subdue the bit of virus he carried in his blood, and his arm slowly returned to normal size.

He pulled a thin pair of spectacles from his coat pocket and put them on, combing his hair into tidied order.

Her face was so peaceful like this. Before he could over think the impulse, he drew his human hand through her hair, the short dark locks like silk against his sensitive fingers.

Alone, with her unaware, he could indulge in a moment of desperate longing.

But only for a moment.

The neighbor boy couldn't be allowed to reach home before she did.

So he meticulously stored away his feelings and gathered her up again, taking off for the small home she shared with her adoptive family.

He was shortly depositing her into her father's angry arms.

The blond had engaged in enough one-sided arguments with Kyouya to know an argument now would be pointless.

Kyouya left; Haruhi wouldn't remember what had happened the night before when she woke up.

She had yet to fully awaken and remember their shared past.

He glimpsed the two agents pulling up outside the house as he left; as long as they didn't try to imprison Haruhi again, he'd steer clear of them.

He reached his resting place just as the sun came up. It rose while he watched, as he had done countless times while waiting, hoping that a sunrise would soon come when she would be watching the sight with him.

* * *

A/N: I don't own Ouran or Blood+. All rights belong to Bisco Hattori and Asuka Katsura. And Haruhi's adopted father was Tamaki, not Ranka.


	5. AU: Blood 88

_Another_ Vampire Tale

She hardly fits the type. Small, short and inconspicuous. Unless you look closely, she just seems bored. But up close, her eyes are dead, the color muddied.

Still not very scary, though he knows that her strength and abilities are unmatchable. On the other hand, maybe she _is_ bored.

From across the crowded room, Kyouya Ootori tries to gauge whether the tiny vampire is falling asleep or glaring at someone. He's pretty certain the answer is sleep; their initial meeting only happened because he had tripped over her body in an alleyway.

His pursuers had taken one look at her elongated teeth and decided he wasn't worth it. He had thought his luck was finally out, until she'd yawned, and glared half-heartedly at him.

"You woke me up," she had complained, already looking like she was ready to go back to sleep right where she stood.

"There's a more comfortable place nearby," he'd offered, thinking that she still might turn on him and rip out his throat.

She'd eyed him, just a touch curious, and he had finally realized that was all the response he was going to get. She had followed him silently through a few more alleys and down some unstable steps (they creaked when he stepped on them, but not when she did). He'd barely had time to gesture to the bed before she was curling up on it, a patch of inky black against his gray sheets. Bemused by the whole evening, Kyouya had retired to the couch, stripping off his outer clothes before falling asleep from sheer exhaustion.

In the morning she was still on the bed, so he'd gone about his business quietly. It was only as night fell again that she stirred. He'd heard some strange noises and went to check on her, aware of the irony in doing so. He caught her finishing off a rat - so it _had_ been a rat he'd been hearing for the last week.

She dropped the body in his waste basket and wiped her mouth absent-mindedly. He was impressed - someone had taught her manners.

In truth, there were few visual clues that she was female.

Most Others were easily distinguished by shape and clothing; vampires, on the other hand, tended to look androgynous, males with hair as long as a woman's, and their clothes flowing around their sinuous, deadly limbs. However little you could tell from visuals, though, you always knew what they were once in their presence. Their auras, (or perhaps the heightened senses that deathly terror brought out in the human animal) told you in a split-second that they were male: deadly, sarcastic and mean, or female: deadly, flirtatious and violent.

So he'd known she was female from the first, but unlike any female he'd ever heard of.

Now it was a month later, and he was still trying to figure it out. She took up his bed most days, but beside the odd rat or small creature she fed off of, she didn't seem interested in going out and hunting.

He couldn't figure out if this was because she was so small, or because she slept so much, or perhaps a strange combination of both. Either way, he had decided to ask about it tonight. He crossed the club and touched her shoulder. After a moment she nodded and glided away.

She drank water and sometimes juice besides the odd rodent, so he poured a glass of orange juice from the carton once they were back at his place. She seemed to sense that he had something to say, and didn't retreat to the dark bedroom after emptying her glass. Her dark clothing swallowed her up, making her look like a child slouched against his faded, lime green couch. A deadly, terrifying child, who wasn't helpless at all.

"Why don't you drink from me?" he finally asked. It had been the question occupying his mind since that very first night.

She hummed - which sounded nothing like a human humming, but was the closest equivalent for the noise that rattled his chest from a few feet away.

"I drank from someone else not too long ago," she said. "And it made me feel... strange."

She looked down at herself, perhaps surprised. "I _still_ feel strange."

He frowned, not liking the thought of her small white teeth on someone else's skin.

"What do you mean, 'strange'?" he asked instead. She frowned.

"My master ordered me to drink our ally's blood, so that I would be stronger."

"Your ally?"

She nodded. "He was very kind, but ... silly. I don't think he liked violence." This thought seemed to occupy her.

"What does he look like?" Kyouya asked, feeling a strange and un-called for jealousy.

Her dark head tilted to the side as she recalled the other man. "Blond, like a foreigner, with blue eyes. He was always smiling, even inside the mansion. The others say he's adorable, and they all wanted to drink from him. But it was decided that I would be the first."

"And you drank from him," he reconfirmed. She nodded.

"Our master wanted me to absorb his fighting skills. In the human world he's known as a fearsome fighter. But… I don't think that's what I absorbed."

He sorted through all his questions quickly, wanting to get answers to the most important before she crashed again.

"Why did he want you to gain fighting skills? Aren't you already stronger than any other race?"

She shook her head. "That kind of strength doesn't matter when you're fighting other vampires," she explained. "You need technical knowledge, too, or eventually you'll get worn down and destroyed."

Kyouya felt his mind tilt dangerously at this inadvertent admission. They were planning on fighting _other vampires_.

"I don't understand. Did they send you away because you failed, or because you killed the fighter?"

She sighed disconsolately. "I didn't kill him, but Master was angry. He said I'm a waste like this, and to come back when I've been sorted out."

Kyouya blinked, trying to fit this information in with the rest of the pieces she had given him.

"Sorted out?" he asked. "What is it that your master wants you to do?"

She sighed lethargically.

"He wants me to lead the other half of his army against Mizune's clan. But I don't have any ambition for it, anymore. Master says I'm too easily influenced by the blood I drink. And there's not a bit of ambition in _that_ kid."

Kyouya's brain had begun spinning at the first confession about a large-scale vampire conflict, and now he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Drink from me," he told her fiercely. She looked up, startled.

"I don't think that will help. You haven't received Master's approval."

He tightened his hold on her. "It can't hurt, though. Right? And you have to get a better meal sometime. Why _not_ me?"

She looked up at him uncertainly. It was an expression that shouldn't belong on a face as _different_ as hers. His resolve didn't waver, and her attention focused on him, for the first time regarding him as she should have, a month ago.

A real meal. Her appetite, if not her reason, was convinced. She stood, lithe in her movements, and reached for his head. He bent over a little to accommodate her shorter height, jerking only a bit when her sharp teeth broke his skin.

She drank more than she had from the blond - she was hungrier this time, and this one had more to spare - and he was _delicious_. She finally withdrew her teeth and licked over the wound to encourage the blood to clot.

His energy buzzed through her, much like a double espresso would for a human. He sank to the floor, dazed, but she kept a hold on his wrist, slightly worried she'd drunk too much. By the time Kyouya recovered enough of his senses to look up, a different vampire stood before him.

She was still short, but no one would mistake what she was, or underestimate her strength now. She radiated threat, and her eyes were clear and cunning.

"You've been hiding from me," she accused, voice low and dark. Her grip on him tightened painfully, and he winced, trying to ease away. She abruptly loosed him, stretching languidly backwards.

"I feel _wonderful_."

In another split second she crouched down before him, the movement too fast for his eyes to track.

"What a stroke of luck," she murmured, and her breath washed over his face only inches away. She didn't smell of death, as he had assumed would be the case, but there was certainly no _life_ in the air that brushed his cheeks. It felt old, and unused. "Your blood alone could power _half _of our forces for battle."

A smile crossed her face that sent shivers down his spine; a happy thought had occurred to her.

"Master Ranka is going to _love_ you."


	6. AU: Sunset 6

A Tribute (to Sunshine)

She wanders to the end of the porch as the sun is setting, watching the sky turn magnificent colors as night gently extends its reign.

Only when deep violet is left on the horizon does her companion emerge from the depths of the house.

He is older, and so cannot bear the sun's late rays like she can.

This time, though, she thinks that his lateness springs from a different reason – he has been absorbed with a search for the past few days on her computer. He drifts to her side (she still has trouble, sometimes, with finding descriptors for how he moves, how _she _now moves), and gazes over the fields beyond them with unfocused eyes.

"Have you had success?" she asks, a little bored by now with only her own company and the silence.

That had been the reason he gave, after all, for his turning her.

* * *

She had been on her way home, late from work, when she had stumbled upon him in a fight with two men.

To this day she did not know what their purpose had been in engaging in a fight with him; druggies were usually too out of it to be violent, and the few moves she had seen were not slurred as a drunk's would have been.

At the same time, they had worn no uniform and looked scruffy, at best.

Of course he had won, and then there had been two bodies in the road, rather than two men, and it was too late to run away.

She couldn't imagine what her expression must have been, but he'd snarled at her – not something the faint of heart could bear with composure or even a toughened street kid for that matter – and yet facing her death she'd been preternaturally calm.

Something of that must have cut through his rage to reach the intelligence that existed behind the fearful face, and he had trapped her against the nearest building with something like gentleness, his entire manner suddenly calm.

She had further shocked them both by meeting his eyes – she hadn't forgotten the warnings she had heard all her life, but for once her curiosity had overridden her caution.

The grip on her shoulder was firm but not painful, and so she had lifted her face to the one just above hers, only inches away.

Light gray eyes had stared back at her, a hint of perplexity tingeing his complexion.

Haruhi had no idea how long they had stood there, examining each other, the two dead bodies forgotten behind him, as he seemed to read much more of her than she was able to of him.

He had finally given a short laugh, which made her shudder from the inhumanness of the noise, and pulled away from her.

"I never thought to find someone like _you_ by chance," he'd said in cultured accents, but his voice was otherworldly and seemed to resonate in the air with a power of its own.

She had carefully kept herself from flinching at all of these things, and then tilted her head, intrigued.

* * *

Haruhi never returned home that night, and by the next nightfall, she had suffered through the change. She still had not worked out _why_ she had agreed, for it wasn't just because he could have easily killed her for her refusal.

He had been gracious about her new thirst and patiently taught her how to hunt.

They had stuck to animals, one of his first and only teachings.

"Feeding on humans is _not _worth the consequences," he had said in such final tones that she neither felt the inclination to ask how he had discovered this, nor to question what he had been about (other than hunting) in killing the men the night they had met.

Besides which, his mandate exactly fit her own preferences.

She'd been human much longer than she had been a vampire, and her character was such that even a change of species (it was easiest to think in scientific terms, she'd found), would not alter her values.

Now she looked at him, face and mind focusing as his mind turned to her question.

"I've found traces of them," he answered her, and she rocked on the balls of her feet, feeling the chance for a run approaching.

It was still hard for her old habits to adjust to the new; this body required exponentially more movement than the old had, and the desire to hunt could still overwhelm her if she did not schedule nights to do just that.

"Are we going to search, then?" she inquired.

White teeth flashed in the growing darkness.

"Yes. For a vampire and a magic handler," he said, finally deigning to explain to her what his weeks-long preoccupation had been about.

One brow rose, but Haruhi didn't question him further.

When there came a light touch on the back of her hand, she followed him onto the shadow pathways, her new nature taking hold of her instincts with a vengeance.

Well, Haruhi thought to herself, this was surely more interesting than cataloguing the old history archives.


	7. AU: Rock 96

Note: italics are "Japanese" lyrics, caps are for English words in the songs.

Rock Band

The rumblings of the crowd had grown to an excited roar as the screens above the stage counted down from one minute, ten seconds.

Sixty-nine seconds later, the spotlights flared to life, concentrating on one bright, round spot. A standing keyboard, set slightly off-center, was the focus. After a long moment the spotlight expanded, breaking up into multiple lesser circles of light that, one by one, focused on the various band members standing around the stage.

A gold-white head stepped beneath the first spotlight, and the next light hit a mike stand to the right, where a diminutive brunette dressed in a loose dress and jeans rocked slightly to the low drum beats that had begun.

In quick succession the other three figures were highlighted; Rino, the bass guitarist, positioned to the far right, Nozu, tiny behind his drums in back center stage, and Ruka on acoustic guitar on the far left.

Each wore variations of the loose but fashionable clothing line from Hitachiin-san, personalized by unique jewelry.

Rino wore four long silver chains around his neck, the links blinking in the bright lights, while Ruka's electric-blue locks reflected the spotlights like miniature mirrors off of the many hair clips littering his hair. His fingers were covered in so many rings that all flexibility should have been impossible, but after several measures of Nozu's drum beats, his fingers strummed the opening notes of the first song.

The crowd's roar turned into rhythmic stomping, and a moment later a sultry alto voice carried across the wide space of the concert hall.

/_The open door reveals your face,_ /_"Tadaima, darling, WELCOME HOME"_ /_The mountains rise so green above,_ /_There's no other place like_ _Nihon_.

Wild screams accompanied the tailored opening; this was the long awaited homecoming of Ranou Bukou.

* * *

They had spent almost a year touring the biggest cities around the world, spreading their brand of funky love songs to the masses. Nothing was safe from the King's lyrical pen; one of their biggest hits was "Let's Go Out for Ramen!" while their strangest was about all the ways the King had stolen indirect kisses from girls. Flowing somen wasn't usually put on a level with soda pop bottles and cocker spaniels.*

As pictures of famous ramen stands flashed up on screen, Haru started to sing in tandem with the King about love and beef broth.

Everyone knew the lead of the band, the self-proclaimed King, doted on the lone female band member, and no wonder: with waist-length brown hair, a pixie face to match her small frame, and a voice that instantly hooked a listener's ears, she seemed a piece of perfection.

The band had come out of nowhere two years before, led by King, with the other band members going by numbers. It had been all-male until their third album, which had been their first album to hit number one on the charts.

In an interview King had joked that their new singer was a breath of spring in their men's locker room. And somehow from that one interview, her stage name had quickly become "Haru."

After that, each band member had started going by a pseudonym.

* * *

The third song began with a piano solo, and it was actually Nozu who sang a tribute about Valentine's Day confessions. The crowd sang along with high energy, carrying the band through the first hour and then into the second with only a ten-minute intermission between.

At the end of the night, despite the amazing performance, the majority of the crowd left the concert hall shell-shocked or despairing.

The band members, too, were oddly quiet as they assembled in their shared dressing room backstage.

Kyouya, clipboard tucked firmly under his left arm, pushed his glasses into place with his other hand.

"Tamaki," he addressed the pianist calmly, "if you must make extravagant gestures, I would prefer it if you did so before the press, rather than in front of our devoted consumers."

The recipient of the "extravagant gesture" glanced at Kyouya's bland face, and Hikaru's thunderous one.

Thankfully, Hikaru kept his opinion on the "King's" actions to himself, and the group dispersed after brief instructions from their manager to meet up to practice in two days.

Honey patted Haruhi's hand as he passed; Mori patted her on the head.

She pulled off her wig with a wry twist of her lips, and followed them out.

* * *

Two days later they met up at the Hitachiin residence to practice for their next recording session.

Hikaru and Kaoru's smug faces were her first warning that something was afoot; when Kyouya stepped into the practice room with their music sheets she felt a skitter of unease run down her back.

He was smiling.

_Pleasantly_.

Honey and Mori didn't seem privy to the information; they were warming up per their usual routine.

Haruhi didn't have the opportunity to ask what was going on (even if she'd wanted to), for Tamaki burst in, screeching and pointing accusingly at their manager.

She made out "How could you - !" and "Confidentiality clause doesn't -" but didn't catch the rest due to the high register he was hitting.

Kaoru finally leaned over and gave her a folded copy of the morning paper.

The headlines proclaimed " Haru of Ranou Bukou 's Secret Marriage!"

In the opening paragraph, the writer advised that "A 'reliable source' has admitted that the mysterious singer of Ranou Bukou has been unavailable from the very beginning." "King was the one who asked Haru to keep it quiet," the source explains. "But apparently the request wasn't just for the fan's benefit."

"It would be hard to believe that kind of rumor, were it not for King's latest stunt at Ranou Bukou 's homecoming concert.

"I was worried about his motives," a female friend of the singer admits. "But he's always been such a gentleman in the past."

Haruhi didn't bother to read any further; just the first page was enough explanation for Tamaki's rage.

The anonymous quotes had been quite masterful, leading the reader to the obvious conclusion.

She wondered briefly if Kyouya had really weighed the consequences of how the article would affect their fan base, but then dismissed the thought.

Of course he had.

It took the better part of twenty minutes to calm Tamaki down, as Hikaru and Kaoru took any opportunity to poke at his tarnished image.

And though she didn't enjoy it, Haruhi understood that this was their payback, for it was now blindingly clear why Tamaki had specifically requested that Kaoru (instead of Hikaru) perform for the homecoming concert.

He'd known that Kaoru would be less likely to assault him on stage, whereas Hikaru wouldn't have considered the crowd or the bad press before taking out his rage on the blond.

Which meant that Tamaki had planned the kiss at _least_ a day before the concert.

Resigned to not getting any quality practice in that day, Haruhi waved goodbye to Honey and Mori, the inadvertent spectators to the debacle, and slipped out.

She wasn't surprised to find Kyouya walking at her side moments later.

"You're wearing the emeralds," he observed, the tiniest trace of satisfaction in his usually bland voice.

She flushed and reached self-consciously to touch the small, emerald-studded hair clips holding back her bangs. She avoided his gaze to regain her calm.

"Yes," she agreed inanely. "It's the only other piece of jewelry you've given me," she explained unnecessarily; of course he would remember exactly what he had given her in the last year and a half.

"A show of unity?" he murmured, tone ironic.

She met his amused, inquiring look boldly.

"Yes."

He stopped her by the simple expedient of grabbing her arm. Haruhi stood perfectly still as he leaned towards her, only giving herself away at the last moment as she rose up to meet him.

When he straightened up long moments later, Haruhi's face had returned to its usual taciturn look, save for a pink flush across her cheeks.

They began walking again in tacit agreement, this time with their hands laced together.

"Since the secret's out, you might as well start wearing that "other piece" again."

A brief smile flashed across her face and was gone. Her thumb reflexively touched her fourth finger; it had started to feel naked in the last few months.

She might - just might - have to thank Tamaki.

* * *

A/N: While I was listening to Jpop, I suddenly wondered what the Host Club would have been like if Haruhi _could_ sing. And RockBand!Ouran emerged.

Everyone's names should be pretty obvious: Hikaru and Kaoru share the hirogana characters 'ru' and 'ka,' so their shared identity was born. In case you were wondering, they take turns on stage so that the other can help the band change wardrobe.

*Lady & the Tramp


	8. AU: Disease 1

In Sickness and Health

She was holding his hand when he woke up. Her hair was a dark contrast against the white sheets; she had likely fallen asleep waiting with him. He glanced around, taking in the white sheets, white walls and white lights.

Hospital, his mind reminded him, and he wrinkled his nose at the smell. He glanced down at her again, taking in the circles under her eyes and the deep breaths she exhaled as she slept.

There was a pang in his chest, wholly different from the ones that had brought him to this place.

This pain was all for her, and the well-being she was putting to the side for his sake. He squeezed her hand, regretting having to wake her, and yet determined that she go and find some real rest. She couldn't afford to get ill from merely worrying over him.

Haruhi came out of the nap slowly, blinking owlishly and then yawning widely. Her left hand came up to cover her mouth, and the ring on her hand reflected the sterile hospital light.

"How are you?" she asked, mind focusing with quick precision.

"_I'm _fine," he told her, voice half mocking, half rebuking. "You don't look so great."

She shrugged, unconcerned, and his mouth pulled down into a frown.

"How is the baby?" he asked, hoping that concern for her offspring would perhaps make her consider her own health.

"She's fine," Haruhi said. "We decided to hire a nanny, after all."

He scowled then, and yanked his hand from hers. "You shouldn't be leaving her with a stranger – you're her mother," he insisted.

"She's not allowed in this ward," Haruhi patiently reminded him.

"Exactly!" he snapped. "So you shouldn't be here either."

Haruhi gave the smallest sigh, which in anyone else, would have been an eye roll.

"We've been over this before, remember?" she said, standing up and retrieving his dinner tray. "I'm not going to leave you here alone. She won't notice a few hours difference at this point in her life."

"I'm not alone," he retorted, dropping his first avenue of attack. "The twins stop by nearly every other day, and Tamaki every day – though I've told him there's absolutely no relationship between us that should warrant such devotion."

She _did_ roll her eyes at the blonde's behavior, but didn't comment.

"And Honey and Mori bring by all kinds of sweets and games," he added and she looked around surreptitiously, hoping that the sweets had been picked up by the nurses. None were in sight, and she hoped that meant that the smaller blonde had either eaten them all during his last visit, or that they had been thrown away.

"The nurse should be coming by in a few minutes with your medication," she said, and his eyes went to the clock.

"I'd rather just be put out of my misery," he commented, and she sighed again.

For a while there was silence as she handed over the portions of his dinner and he ate them with varying expressions of disgust.

"Can't you bring some _real_ food?" he asked after one bite of particularly tasteless meat.

"I can ask," she agreed, but didn't stop handing him the hospital food. He glared at her, but accepted it.

"I realize I'm being… a hassle," he began after fifteen minutes of working through his mental aggravation in silence.

"Not a hassle," she disagreed, "a pain."

That startled a chuckle out of him, and he paused in eating to look out of the lone window in the room. The trees were just beginning to flower and the weather was growing warmer. The coming spring didn't make him feel any better, though, in the face of his own sickness.

"Is it really worth fighting this?" he asked, not able to disguise his weariness in the face of a disease that took out half of those it infected.

"_I _think it's worth it," came a voice from the doorway, and they both twisted around to view the newcomer.

The white lab coat proclaimed him a doctor, though usually he didn't deal with patients.

"You're biased," came the muttered response as he walked over to the two at the bed.

"You've been here for a while," he commented to Haruhi, and she shrugged. "Try to remember that visiting hours end at eight," he requested stoically.

"Missing your wife?" the man in the bed taunted him, and storm gray eyes met his.

"Yes, actually," he agreed with calm. "Much as I'd rather not lose my only in-law, I doubt vigilance by your bedside is going to cure you."

Fujioka smirked. "You never know…"

"I'll be home tonight," Haruhi quickly interjected, not wanting to see yet another row (however playful) between her father and her husband.

The watch on Kyouya's arm beeped, and he turned it off with a practiced movement.

"I'm administering the shot today," he told her, and she nodded, backing up to give them privacy.

"Go on home," her father suddenly said, and after a moment of examining the tired lines in his face, Haruhi nodded, and bent to kiss his forehead.

"I'll see you in the morning," she said, and slipped out.

Kyouya pulled out the equipment and administered the experimental shot with the ease of long practice.

"Do you really think there's a chance this will work?" Fujioka asked quietly, watching his son-in-law's precise movements.

Kyouya met his eyes. "I think there's a good chance this will help you," he said, and Fujioka sighed.

"Besides," the black-haired man continued, "you haven't gotten to see Suzuki's room yet, and Haruhi needs your help in finding post-pregnancy clothes."


	9. AU: Play 17

Absence

They were playing with dolls on the floor when Suzuki suddenly stopped, and out of the blue said, "I miss Grandpa."

Haruhi paused, one (far-too expensive) doll in hand, taken off guard. There was no mistaking which 'Grandpa,' Suzuki meant; Suzuki called Kyouya's father 'Tou-tou-san,' an endearment that had only been accepted by the strict patriarch with the quirk of one dark eyebrow. A rustle of paper brought her eyes up to meet her husband's, his attention caught by the conversation. They exchanged uncharacteristically helpless looks.

"I'm sorry, Suzuki," Haruhi responded, and hoped that would be an end to it.

"I wanna play with him," the black-haired child demanded, and frowned in good imitation of her father.

"That's just not possible," Haruhi reasoned with her daughter, and the pout emerged. Haruhi sighed, wondering when the petulant age would be over and the rational age would begin.

"I _want_ _GRANPA_!" her daughter began to scream, in a far-too-quick escalation of temper, and as Haruhi moved one hand up to rub at her forehead tiredly, Kyouya intervened.

"That is _enough_," he said, tones strident and harsh, and Suzuki stopped immediately, shocked by his tone.

It was almost enough to make Haruhi smile; the times Kyouya turned his formidable voice and presence on their daughter were rare, and few, but Suzuki had been complaining over every little thing for the past week, and Haruhi was about out of patience. She suspected some on-coming illness was the cause of all the crying and upset, but that didn't make Suzuki any easier to deal with. And the break in her work was just perfect for having to face this kind of parenting problem.

She sighed.

Her thoughts turned to her father, the strange source of the latest upset with the capricious Suzuki, and she felt ready to cry a bit herself.

The last few months of his hospital stay had been tense, Ryouji demanding to have his way despite all the pleading Haruhi and, yes, even Kyouya had done to keep him there. In the end, he'd had his way, and they had tried to adjust themselves to make his last days there pleasant.

The thought of those last days, with all the old Host Club members in attendance made her smile, and she wondered if the picture album would be enough to satisfy her daughter.

Well, Haruhi thought, with her usual practicality as she searched for the album, she hoped he was happy with his decision, wherever he was now.


	10. AU: Travel 102

Travel Plans

Haruhi ran to catch the last train home; Kyouya would likely have another lecture ready for her on putting in over-time, but she was determined to win this case, which meant putting in substantial hours for her client.

She glanced at her watch again once she found a seat; Suzuki's nanny would likely be putting her down to sleep now, and she felt a pang of conscience at being gone all day. She had promised herself she wouldn't live any differently because of wealth, and then had promised herself a whole other list of things about motherhood…

_He won't even need to lecture,_ she thought wryly, rubbing at her tired eyes. _I'm already doing it for him._

She had been against hiring a nanny at first, because of her own few but valuable childhood memories of times spent at her mother's side, but with Ryoji in the hospital, her priorities had changed. As Kyouya had said, it was unlikely she would be struck down as her mother had been, and it was stupid to live in fear (much as she wanted to – how could she ever forget the pain of standing by her father's side, just the two of them?), and risk missing the last few months of her father's life over a time that Suzuki would never remember.

After Kyouya's reasoning, it had been hard not to feel relief at the nanny's arrival.

But now… she was afraid that what Kyouya had warned her against was coming true. She was taking for granted the future, and had neglected to spend any quality time with Suzuki at all that day. Or with Kyouya!

She had seen him three days ago, waking briefly as he slipped into bed, but they both had such full schedules, it was easy to get caught up in their own separate lives. And hadn't she made promises about that, too? Haruhi felt frustration rise up, but fought back the self-directed anger.

Well. A mental check was a good thing, she reminded herself. It meant she could work on fixing things, rather than racing forward heedlessly as she _had_ been doing.

It was still a struggle, sometimes, to be responsible for so many other people's happiness.

The car was waiting for her when she emerged from the subway station, and instead of indignation, this time she could only feel grateful for his high-handedness.

Nearly stumbling up the front steps of the house, she went straight to the study to drop her things off; Kyouya had become a lighter sleeper since Suzuki's birth (though not much lighter) and she didn't want to chance waking him.

Haruhi slipped down the hall to check on her daughter, surprised to see a faint light beneath the door. Perhaps Suzuki had woken the nanny – it wouldn't be the first time.

She cracked open the door, and peeked in.

It only took her a moment to notice the large form on the bed, which was decidedly not Suzuki _or _Kyouya, and she almost banged the door against the wall in her sudden panic.

Then she was sliding to the ground on legs that could not hold her, meeting a pair of eyes she had almost given up hope of ever seeing again.

"Hi," he said, his nervous tone betraying the casual greeting.

"Father," she replied, tone even, despite her position on the floor. He made an awkward, scooting move toward her, and her eyes went to her daughter, safely asleep in his lap.

"Might I ask what you're doing here?" she questioned, as thoughts flew about her brain, too overwhelmed to pick the right one to ask.

"Coming for a visit?" he suggested, in an even more nervous tone. She just barely stopped herself from snapping at him, and by his wince, he knew it. After long moments of staring at each other, Ryoji carefully set his sleeping granddaughter down on her bed and moved past Haruhi to the hallway.

Haruhi climbed shakily to her feet and followed him.

"Why did you come back?" she asked tersely, and immediately wanted to bite her tongue. But Ryoji hadn't been her father for thirty years without learning how to read her, even with a two year absence. His smile was a bit sad, and a bit wry.

"Did you think I could wait until you or your husband finally decided to plan a visit?" His eyes went to the bedroom door. "Or that I could really stay away from my only granddaughter?"

Haruhi sighed, relenting. "You've never asked us to visit, either," she returned gently.

His laugh was almost amused. "I bought a three bedroom apartment; did you think _I _needed that much space?"

Afraid of the what the prickling feeling beneath her eyes might be, she embraced him tightly.

"We would never… we wanted to be with you. But you left with such a… your attitude was…"

Face buried in her short hair, Ryouji winced again. "I'm sorry for that. I wasn't in my right mind. I barely remember those days now - just a memory of desperation and the need to escape."

Haruhi's arms drew him closer. She hated remembering those days.

"I'm glad you're feeling better." Which was an understatement if Ryouji had ever heard one. This was the first hug Haruhi had initiated with him in years. He hadn't realized how much the miscommunication between them had hurt her.

"Well, by the doctor's orders, I'm not supposed to be here; he says I could relapse. But I had to come; I couldn't rely on Tamaki to force you all my direction."

He pushed her back gently. "So will you come? I promise that you're always welcome. My family is _always_ welcome."

Haruhi scowled, fighting her tears. "Of course we will. I think Kyouya must have had an idea of you pulling a stunt like this; he's turned down the last two projects offered to him. And I'll be done with my present case next week."

Ryouji gave her an oddly vulnerable look. "And Suzuki?"

She laughed quietly. "Suzuki won't be at all upset to miss playing with her nanny. Not for her grandpa."


	11. AU: Gun 36

The Land of No Mercy

Kill or be killed.

That was the one hardfast rule of life in Mujihi-kuni.

Three. Twenty five. Fifteen. Twenty one. Twenty three. One.

They weren't ages, but kills. One couldn't earn rank here, only a slow-built strength that made it harder to die.

Allies and alliances were rare; people could remember legends about those who had gone before, but betrayal was more the norm.

Except for one significant group, known only as Khat-2.

Rumor said that for all their internal fighting, they never shot to kill one another, just those that came up against them. Most of the rumors were hearsay, as those who saw them didn't live long afterward.

Another rumor said that their alliance was formed on something other than survival. But that seemed as much a myth as the Calculator.

That myth had started as a result of the badges everyone wore: the number on the badge changed according to one's kills, and so everyone knew how weak or strong you were.

What was mysterious was the delivery. No one had ever seen who brought the badges, but once one had picked up a gun and used it, intentionally or not, you received your badge.

So the two mysteries remained, but only two people knew that they were connected.

Haruhi, a.k.a. Tori, looked down from the lip of Dry Canyon at one of the cafes that Khat-2 was known for frequenting.

When she had first picked up her gun (a sweet .22 revolver) and entered Mujihi society, she hadn't intended to go against the largest force in the land. But she had her own motivations for tracking them down.

She glared at the cafe, awaiting the sign. Her on-again, off-again partner Kara was supposed to be inside, checking for the Khat-2 members.

When no signal came in the next few minutes, she knew she would have to chance going down without warning or preparation.

Kara could be flighty, and depending on how the Khat-2 had behaved towards her, Haruhi might be walking into a trap. Or at least into an unequal fight.

In addition to her .22, she had a four shot Remington derringer for her left hand, and a double-barreled shotgun strapped to her back. She didn't usually go in for knives; they tended to enrage opponents, rather than taking them out. A bullet was faster and cleaner.

She checked the sun's position; going down the canyon wall would put her in clear view if they were looking for her, but she had enough kills under her belt to take a few hits and keep going.

The problem would be going inside.

Usually one for plans, this time she chose to recklessly run down the canyon wall, and began shooting at the windows when she got into range.

There was a pause, hopefully of surprise, before the gunfire was returned, and she had already found a large boulder to dive towards for protection and to reload.

She could see shapes running around inside, and then things went still. Carefully, she set her revolver down next to her, carefully facing it away from herself, and reached back.

A large brown handkerchief was pulled from her pocket, and she extended her arm to the edge of the rock, and waved it once .

Three almost simultaneous shots tore it from her grip; she smiled grimly.

Kara was likely gone, so she was on her own.

Three shapes ran out to her right, and she pulled the shotgun from her back, turning her face away from the rock. The beauty of this gun only worked in situations like these, where she needed to send off multiple shots at once.

She pulled the trigger, and the recoil sent the stock into her chest.

_That would bruise_, she thought, and heard movement to her left.

Her faithful .22 took out a brunette, who fell with a look of dismayed shock. She couldn't pay much attention to him, though, for another was coming in at her right.

A moment later she wished she hadn't looked, for she was pointing her derringer at a child, and her finger had frozen on the trigger.

The click of multiple hammers being cocked told her she was surrounded, and with a gun pointing at her from the "child," too, she let her weapons drop to the ground.

"Tori. Or should I say Haruhi? This looks like your defeat."

Haruhi glared at a slender young man pointing a classic black Smith & Wesson at her. Two others completed the circle: a twin to the first she had brought down, and a taller blond who was... tearing up, but keeping his gun on her.

"Honey. Status check."

A sniff proceeded the littlest one's report.

"She got Hikaru. I think Takashi was hit, too."

"That's all right. Four is still more than enough to handle her."

Haruhi wished her glare was lethal. _He _was the only one she had wanted dead.

"Miss Haruhi. I believe we have some unfinished business between us. I realize it is partly my fault that you made such a... gesture, but as you have now my attention and I have you, I propose a compromise."

Haruhi doubted an agreement under such circumstances would be in her favor, but nodded for him to go on.

"I would like to suggest a permanent partnership between us. Allowing, of course, that you give my companions their freedom."

Haruhi stared at him, wondering if she was just imagining what he was implying - but no, even her imagination would never venture into such a direction.

At her lengthy silence, he cleared his throat; she felt it was more to get her to focus, rather than a breathing obstruction.

"I do mean a permanent relationship; a working contract won't satisfy me."

His razor smile sent tremors of alarm down her back.

Without fully realizing what she was doing, Haruhi hit her fail safe, and found herself blinking away white stars.

She was now staring at a large corkboard covered in code and lists, and a console that sat at eye level.

Kara, known in this world as Ranka, was leaning against the table, one amused eyebrow raised at her reaction.

"Caught you off-guard, didn't he? I told you not to underestimate that one," he said, throwing up both hands in exasperation. "Both the first time you went after him and now; I _warned _you! But do you listen to your wise father? No. Everything has to ride on your little power play."

Haruhi scowled at this unflattering picture of how she had handled the situation, and removed her comp visor.

"He agreed to help me if I could prove my ability to him," she replied, and stood up from her desk chair to stretch.

"I'll agree that you caught his attention," Ranka said in a much more temperate voice. "But what are you going to do when he breaks free, Haruhi? That boy isn't the kind who will let you go, now."

Haruhi didn't reply, for she was asking herself the same thing, and wondering what exactly she had begun between herself and the keen-eyed corporate head.

* * *

_Explanation_: Set in a high-tech society, Haruhi had approached Kyouya to ask his help in establishing an education program for young people. Kyouya inevitably looks down his nose at her, and tells her to first prove herself, and then he might be inclined listen.

Incredibly angered by his tone and dismissive attitude, she decides to use her college skills and traps the majority of society in their own technology, entering into a world of warfare.

When Kyouya realizes what she's done, he gathers up his old friends and has them help him. All "death" does is return a person to the real world - he tested this out with Renge, and found that her body disappeared a few minutes after her "death."

Interested by the lengths Haruhi has gone to, he decides to stay in the world until she shows herself, and have a much needed vacation with his friends.

He's certainly changed his stance regarding Haruhi, but she's not going to be prepared for the consequences of drawing his undivided attention to herself.

Khat-2 comes from their names (**K**youya, **K**aoru, **H**ikaru, **H**oney, **T**amaki, **T**akashi), and Tori, Haruhi's name, means gate - she's the gateway out of this world for them. Kara is just a jumble of Ranka's hirogana.

Finally, Mujihi-kuni means Merciless Land.


	12. AU: Taste 22

The Taste of Defeat

He had won his way free of her program, and a few months later blackmailed her into a civil contract cunningly disguised as a business negotiation. The wording had needed Ranka's help, but that cooperation was gained by a short conversation about his daughter's potential lonely and exiled future.

Besides, the two men had spent a fair amount of time in the game sizing each other up, and Ranka wasn't averse to being related to a rich, successful (and slightly narcissistic) corporate head.

Haruhi was the only fly in the ointment, the one who shunned his company at every opportunity.

In reality, Haruhi felt she had begun to resemble hunted prey, startling at the littlest noises and shadows appearing beneath her eyes. She ran from Ootori Kyouya because that was her instinctual response; she had done something worthy of retaliation, and expected the worst from him.

When Kyouya presented the coup de grace, she almost felt relief that the trap had finally closed round her.

Surely it was better to make do than to spend your remaining days worrying, and slowly losing your sanity.

And once the contract was signed and sealed, Haruhi settled into it with surprising ease.

She hadn't realized that Kyouya's influence would suddenly change in regard to herself; from competition to alliance. She had assumed his honor only stretched so far as it was convenient for _him_. To find that he would uphold his end of the deal when he'd originally planned revenge, came as an enormous surprise.

Kyouya was surprised by this too, for he hadn't forced her hand with the intention of aiding her; he had intended for her talents to serve him, and _his_ interests.

Ranka merely smiled as he watched the balancing act continue.

Then one of Haruhi's committee members for the board of new education visited her at Kyouya's home.

"What delicate floors!" was Rinko-san's first sentence past 'hello,' and from there it just went downhill.

By the time Kyouya arrived home, Haruhi was ready to boot the woman out. With a charming smile and flattering attention, he instead encouraged her prattling.

This kind of transformation was nauseating to Haruhi, yet she didn't protest. At least _he_ was the one fawning over the woman, though the effort didn't seem to be as draining for him as it had been for her.

A few minutes into the polite chatter, Haruhi picked up her ears in surprise, and jerked around.

Rinko-san was complaining of how little support she had been able to raise for her pet project, and Kyouya was making sympathetic murmurs.

Haruhi held her breath, hoping.

Rinko-san pouted in imitation of a five-year-old, and Kyouya smoothly assured her that he would _of course_ support her project - how much did she need?

Haruhi kept still, and tried to keep her eyes as glassy and unfocused as possible.

Kyouya pulled his checkbook out, and was writing on it; Haruhi's nerves seemed to jump with each scratch against the paper.

Rinko-san took the check happily and tucked it into her purse, still chattering away about children and the future. Haruhi watched through her bangs, and let out a silent breath (she wasn't sure if it was relief) when it was safely inside the designer bag.

Kyouya asked a few more questions about what they had planned for today, and then excused himself.

As Haruhi waved Rinko-san off, all annoyance with the woman faded. She found herself smiling with genuine humor, for the first time in months.

* * *

It was only as she was climbing into bed that night that the enormity of what she had witnessed that day truly hit her.

When Kyouya entered the bedroom a few minutes later, he assumed she was crying, and took his time walking across the carpeted floor.

As he drew closer, though, he realized his first impression had been wrong. She _was_ crying, but she was also pounding the bed with one hand and hiccupping with laughter.

"_What_ -!"

She looked up and shook her head wildly, short hair flying about her head.

"Oh," she gasped, completely out of breath. "The irony! If she hadn't been sick!"

Though Kyouya had been the one to force her into their marriage, he did not tolerate anything that disrupted his plans. Or his composure.

"What _are_ you talking about?"

Haruhi made an effort to calm herself, and succeeded only because of her strong desire to see his reaction.

"Rinko-san. Today. You gave her the money!" she managed to get out. He glared.

"Rinko-san," she repeated, attempting to explain better. "She would have come in my place, that first time, but she had a cold! Instead I had to go talk to you... and after all that effort of refusing to support the school, you -"

She couldn't finish, too overcome by how both of their efforts to best the other had been totally unnecessary.

"Your donation will support the first two years of students, in addition to setting the building's foundations! And when other investors hear that _Ootori Kyouya _chose to support us...!"

As she went back to watery chuckling, unable to stop, Kyouya scowled.

Not even two days ago, Kaoru had asked (in a horribly implicating way) whether Kyouya had really been the victor of their past battle of wills.

Kyouya had brushed off the jibe, but now, as he reflected on thousands gone towards "education," while he _still_ hadn't gotten past a kiss on the cheek, he thought that maybe Kaoru had been more correct than either of them had known. Maybe he _had_ been defeated.

Another glance across the bed set him to scheming. The taste of defeat wouldn't linger long.

If he truly had been beaten, then he wasn't going down alone.


	13. AU: Myth 85

Camelot, Quirked

They were being laid siege to.

Haruhi looked out over the battlements, and sighed deeply.

Usually they avoided such trials by the easy fact of distance; Camelot was more of a legend than a reality for her people, who lived normal lives, mostly free of wandering knights and chivalry.

However, the profusion of knights recently being admitted to the ranks of the Round Table had pushed the masses farther north than even Haruhi could have expected. One would, perhaps, have also expected better of comrades-in-arms, but apparently the old knights had some problems with sharing space.

A shiny silver suit of armor was riding towards her castle, a trumpeter at his side, along with a squire and a page.

Overkill, she couldn't help but think. The day was, a knight could travel on his own and make his name that way.

She watched them approach out of a mixture of irritation and boredom. For once she was caught up on inventory, and though there would be the kitchens to oversee later that afternoon, she was uncharacteristically free.

The head guardsman had looked relieved to find her – so much so that she had felt guilty for leaving the previous four to him to handle.

The knight rode up within shooting distance, and then removed his helm (the better to yell, she figured) and blonde locks gleamed in the bright afternoon sun.

"Lady of the castle, we are here to rescue you!" he called gallantly.

Haruhi wondered if he would fall off his horse in shock if she told him to stuff it.

Kasanoda came to stand beside her, drawn by the servants' crowding near the wall, and by the yelling.

"What's going on?" he asked, but before she could explain, the knight on the field pointed at them with his sword.

"Knight of the Red Lands! I have come to defeat you, and take back the Lady's honor!"

Kasanoda blinked, confused. "Is he talking to me?" he asked.

Haruhi patted his arm in a consoling manner; it would be useless to explain, as the only thing Kasanoda was good at concentrating on was crops, and the knight below was obviously off on some legendary gambit.

"Ignore the idiots," Haruhi suggested. "How are the new field hands doing?"

Kasanoda brightened at this chance to share the most recent news about his hobby horse, and they walked down the stairs, away from the perimeter wall.


	14. AU: Languid 68

Camelot, Continued

Haruhi was watching the knights practice their jousting against each other in the field before the castle walls.

She didn't want to acknowledge their presence formally, but Kasanoda had pointed out that they were occupying the prime grazing field, which would shortly be useless, the way their horses were tearing up the turf.

"You could always send out a knight to challenge them. They would leave if they were honorably defeated," a low voice came from behind her.

She turned to stare at the unwonted advice giver.

The squire Kyouya Ootori, officially under Sir Tamaki Suou, had come under a white flag to assess the situation within the castle.

To Haruhi's knowledge, he hadn't relayed any of the information to the knights outside; therefore she partially blamed him for the continued unrest outside her home.

"And who would I send?" she asked dryly. "No one has been trained in sword fighting or for jousting; invariably they would lose and I would have an injured worker in addition to having to put up all of your friends."

She was tempted to have him thrown out as well, but that might incite the waiting knights to besiege the castle.

Harvest was in two weeks; she couldn't afford to have her people diverted from their schedules.

"Why don't _you _fight them off, if you're so interested in aiding us," she retorted, thoroughly annoyed at this unwanted visitor who had made himself quite at home in the castle as the rest of them worked all day.

She was about to dismiss him from the book room when she glimpsed his expression. From a week's acquaintance she couldn't tell what it meant.

"You haven't given me sufficient reason to do that for you," he finally said, and smiled.

Haruhi had found she didn't like his smiles; or rather, she didn't trust them.

Perusing the harvest records from last year, she thought back on the first smile she had encountered. And winced.

"Why don't you have your husband fight for you? He looks strong enough, even if he lacks the technical skills required," he suggested.

Haruhi gifted him with a blank stare.

"What husband? These are _my_ family's lands and castle."

This time, the smile made her want to back away, and fast.

"Ah. I see. Please forgive me my misunderstanding. While we wait for the idiots to wear themselves out, would you mind if I read through the books here?"

Though Haruhi didn't trust him, and wished him gone, he had done nothing – yet – to justify throwing him out. And what harm could he wreck in the book room?

"Certainly," she said, and escaped.

Days later, Kasanoda sat down next to her at supper to report on how the harvest preparation was going.

"Why do you have that knight looking over the record books?" he asked, and Haruhi choked on her soup.

* * *

A/N: Yeah. Kyouya's evil. Traditionally, I believe his role is to woo the lady of the castle on behalf of the knight he serves. But Kyouya is self-serving, so…


	15. AU: Early 15

Early warning signs that your husband is a tyrant…

"I don't think you'll want to be wearing such heavy pants in the summer," he said, sliding them from her hands and giving her a _questioning_ glance when she opened her mouth to argue with him.

"That skirt, I think," he told the shop assistant, who ran to fetch the one Kyouya had gestured at.

Haruhi frowned at him, but the small smile he returned made her give up the cause.

Years of experience before marriage had made it her habit to avoid conflict with him.

* * *

And perhaps that was where it all went wrong.

* * *

"Oatmeal is a good for you, of course," he said, even as her favorite winter breakfast was whisked away by a servant, leaving Haruhi blinking in confusion. "But the miso Cook makes has added vitamins."

It was such an odd thing for him to object to, that she didn't even question it. Haruhi didn't need to know all of her husband's quirks. In fact, she didn't _want_ to know them all.

* * *

"You only have to come for an hour," he said, and if it were anyone else, it would be coaxing for a favor. But as this was Kyouya Ootori, it was a command, expected to be followed, and only couched in such a way to imply that he knew it would be imposing on her time at the office and wasn't she so grateful it was only an hour?

Haruhi watched him as he settled a steel gray tie around his neck, and considered tightening it for him just a _little_ further.

But she could still choose her battles, she decided, and slipped only two files into her briefcase rather than six before leaving.

And she slipped the dress he preferred into her bag, as well as the matching heels.

"I'll see you at nine," she answered as she left.

* * *

"It would hinder your career if we had children now," he told her one evening after an uncomfortable dinner with his father had led to questions that were just a little too private.

She 'hmm-ed' in response, busy reading for her next case in court, and he let the matter drop, believing that Haruhi was a consistent creature.

Two months later, she handed him a doctor's report over dinner, and perfectly warmed venison stew splattered the table.

"Haruhi," he began in quelling tones. "What is this?"

She glanced up at him, perfectly composed despite the mess, and sipped at her water; not wine.

"Kyouya, you work at a hospital," she said, and his face turned thunderous at her apparently flippant reply. "Surely you can understand the terminology."

It was quite interesting to see what real confrontation did to his perfect control.

She had a quiet meal for all of three minutes before he ordered the servants out and began to question her, at length, about her sanity, about his authority in this house, about _plans._

Haruhi interrupted him there, feeling that he should be informed about such a matter.

"I did plan," she said, and pushed away from the table, done with dinner. "Good night," she said pleasantly, and to secure a full night of sleep, retired to a guest bedroom and locked the door.

* * *

Haruhi had four months of near silence from her husband, even after she moved back to their bedroom.

Having expected such a reaction, she set herself to enjoying the time, unconcerned at the sound of his teeth grinding at dinner – he _did_ work at a hospital – and inviting the boys over as often as she had time.

Honey particularly loved to lay against her stomach, the only one small enough to do so and not crush her, listening weeks too early for a heartbeat.

Haruhi only asked Kyouya once if he had a preference for names, when feeling unusually light-hearted from strange hormone changes.

His grunt she had shrugged off, and gone on perusing a baby book her father had brought over that day.

By the time the baby was born, Kyouya was talking to her again, though he was also often throwing her calculating, if not confused, glances.

"You shouldn't try to rule me," she told him when they were finally alone, finally feeling like herself again, and he looked up from the baby, face both awed and a trifle scared. He gave the slightest grimace.

"It's early times yet," he said, with more truth than either could yet realize.


	16. Lawsuit: Office 37

Lawsuit: Office Meeting

"Haruhi, are you free?"

Haruhi looked up from a few papers she had been discussing with one of the secretaries and turned her attention to her boss.

"Yes," she replied after exchanging glances with Megumi-san. "Is there something you need?"

Sarada-san, one of the lawyers who owned the firm, waved her over.

"I'd like your help with a client; this case looks manageable for you, and Endo-san and I are too busy with that fashion case," he ended with a disgruntled mutter.

Haruhi didn't ask – hadn't asked – about the complicated case of mixed fashion rights that two companies were arguing (loudly) over. She merely nodded, and followed along.

Sarada-san briefed her quickly about the case she was walking into – a malpractice suit; the hospital was asking their help to defend the doctor.

"Ootori-san, Kato-san, this is Fujioka," he introduced them right away, mere seconds after opening the door on one of their larger conference rooms. "She'll help you sort out a few things and then we'll have a better idea of how to begin your defense. Please excuse me," he said, and, in Haruhi's personal opinion, scooted out much faster than was normal or polite.

Turning to the two men, she bowed. "I'm honored to work with you," she said automatically, trained to treat all of their clients with respect in speech as well as action. However, the words seemed to catch at the dark-haired man's attention, and he straightened up, looking at her in a critical manner.

"Could I look over the filed suit?" she asked, and was a little surprised when the paler man, with light brown hair produced the papers, a little wrinkled, from his coat.

Haruhi took her first good look at him, and realized that he was wearing a lab coat, rather than a suit jacket like the other man.

"Kato-san is one of our surgeons," Ootori-san inserted quietly. "I am in charge of the surgeons," he added, as thought to explain his presence.

"How long have you worked here?" he asked abruptly, and though the question was quite rude, she answered evenly.

"I've been with Sarada-san and Endo-san for two years, and my internship through university was with them before that," she said, meanwhile smoothing out the papers from Kato-san.

Ootori-san nodded, looking a bit distracted.

Haruhi read over the complaint lodged by one of Kato-sensei's patients, and the doctor's own report about the case. She was aware of at least one pair of eyes on her the whole time, but concentrated on examining the problem at hand.

After reading it through carefully, there seemed to be nothing that would be a problem for her, but that could change as the legal process went on.

"Until Kazuma-san contacts us about a court date, we'll wait to schedule our next consultation," she began to explain, pulling out a few forms they would need to begin the necessary paperwork, when a phone began to ring.

Ootori-san checked it, and then apologized. "Please excuse me; I need to take this," he said and left the room.

"Ah, Kato-san, if you could fill this out, as well," Haruhi said, handing him another sheet.

"You didn't realize, did you," that man said, instead, and Haruhi paused to look at him, confused.

"Ootori-san, I mean" he clarified, shooting a glance at the closed door. "He's not just in charge of the surgeons; he's in charge of _all_ the surgeons, at _all_ the hospitals."

When her face still didn't clear, he sighed with exasperation.

"_Ootori_ Kyouya," he emphasized. "One of Ootori-san's sons."

Haruhi finally made the connection he meant; the Ootori name in medical fields was practically a brand name, but she shrugged despite that, still not understanding why he had brought it up.

"Does that change your case somehow?" she asked, wondering if he was worried about his position. He gave her an uncertain look.

"No…" he hedged, seeming confused himself, by her question and lack of reaction.

"Ah, good," she said. "You'll still need to fill these out."

He took the papers she handed him this time, but after taking a pen, just stared at her, lost.

"Excuse my rudeness." Ootori-san's voice brought Kato-san back to earth, and with a start, he bent his head over the papers with apt attention.

"It was no problem," Haruhi told him easily, and handed over very similar papers to Ootori-san. "Now, if you would just look over our basic contract here…"

* * *

A/N: To answer the inevitable questions: the other Ouran cast will not be prominent, not for a while. Kyouya and Haruhi didn't know each other in high school; Kyouya's family history is slightly different; the brothers are not as competitive. But Kyouya is still manipulative and calculating.


	17. Lawsuit: Benign 44

Patience

"Kyouya, is there something you're not telling me about Kato's case?" his father asked him one day as their corporate meeting let out.

Kyouya, ready to leave to attend his next business, changed his stance and faced his father, ignoring his brothers' curious looks.

"No," he responded, and then tilted his head just a fraction. "Is something wrong?"

Ootori Yoshio analyzed his son, just a little proud of that calm face.

"You've never shown such attention to a malpractice suit before," he finally commented. "It's concerned a few of our investors. And I must admit some interest as well."

Kyouya stiffened, not having previously considered what it might mean if his father was wondering about the division under his supervision - or more precisely, his business.

"There is nothing to be worried about with Kato," he assured his father. "I'm merely finding the legal process quite intriguing."

And he hoped that that would be the end of his father's curiosity.

But three days later, he heard his brothers talking at the breakfast table, before he walked through the door.

"A girl?" The incredulous voice was his second-oldest brother.

"That's what father said," a calmer, more rational voice replied - his oldest brother.

"But Kyouya _never_ notices women..."

He didn't stayed to listen to any more - it was enough to cause mild panic that his father would have gone so far as to investigate the firm and find out about Fujioka.

He didn't want to guess at what he might have said to Sarada-san or Endo-san, or even (_please_, _no_) Fujioka-san.

And yet, despite his trepidation and the caution that pounded in his rational mind, he went to the next meeting a day later.

Fujioka was the same as ever - focused, professional - and utterly fascinating. She was also, as usual, utterly unaware of his observations.

For now, he was perfectly fine with that, Kyouya thought, watching as a long strand of hair, fallen from the sloppy bun, was pushed roughly behind her ear.

He took a few notes and proceeded to observe.

Fascinating.


	18. Lawsuit: Persist 98

Conflicting Interests

Kyouya had attended every meeting with their lawyer, though technically, only Kato-san had been necessary for the later sessions.

The truth was, he admitted three weeks to the day they'd met, he couldn't just stop himself.

At first he had been irritated that Sarada-san would dare to put a request from the Ootori organization into a rookie's hands, and had even intended to take their case and money elsewhere... but then Fujioka-san had entered the picture… and he couldn't help but head out to the meetings, every single time.

It was making Kato-san nervous – even more nervous than normal; Kyouya's close attention to the case was unprecedented.

Kato-san was always anxious over something or another, but he was a brilliant surgeon. It was the only reason why Kyouya had decided to keep him on, even through the mess of a malpractice suit.

"The court date has been set for a little over a month from now," Fujioka was saying as he entered the room.

Her dark brown eyes flicked to him, acknowledging his arrival, and then back to her papers. As she continued to explain the progress, he took in her hair, done up in the usual sloppy bun; after the first few hours of looking at her, he'd wondered why she kept it so long when she obviously didn't care about it.

Wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, the glass a bit smudged from being pushed up by absent-minded fingers.

… And he was looking _far_ too closely for comfort. Kyouya turned his attention determinedly to what she was saying.

"Unless Suzuki-san finds some medical evidence that supports his claims, there should be nothing to worry about," she assured them.

"Be certain of that, Fujioka," Sarada-san warned. "Ootori-san, good to see you," he greeted the younger man, in a much lighter tone.

Kyouya talked with him for a few moments, for the sake of the company's relationship with the firm, but aware all the while of Kato speaking privately with Fujioka. She patted his arm after a minute and he looked relieved, and with a final glance at his absorbed boss, he exited.

Kyouya deftly wrapped up Sarada's conversation for him with the skill of a master; the older associate was smiling as he slid out the door a step after Fujioka.

"Fujioka-san, I appreciate your efforts on our behalf," he called out to her, inwardly pleased when she slowed down to walk at his side – first goal accomplished.

"It's my job," she said, a little surprised by the effort _he_ had been putting in.

"Still," he insisted. "it isn't often that one of our cases is wrapped up so easily."

"It's not won yet," she cautioned him, but he waved her concerns aside with one slender hand.

"All the evidence supports Kato, and you've found a strong point to defend from," he said; nothing she didn't already know, but it was rare that Kyouya was impressed.

Haruhi shrugged, a little uncomfortable with the praise – but then, she always was.

"Is there any chance you would be free for dinner tomorrow night?" he asked, and his tone was so casual it took a few moments for the meaning of his words to sink in.

She stopped walking, staring at him in surprise.

"We're not encouraged to associate with clients outside of the office," she told him; the invisible rule the first objection to pop into her head. "Not in that way, I mean," she explained, becoming just a little flustered by her own confusion.

But it _had_ come from nowhere, she thought, reassuring herself.

Kyouya took his time in considering her response despite the fact that it was a refusal, keeping pace with her as she strode down the main hallway.

"What about when our case is over?" he finally asked softly, and Haruhi's attention was jerked back up to him.

Realizing that he was quite serious, she could only shrug, wondering why he wanted to bother.

"Well, then." He bowed respectfully. "I will see you in a month."


	19. Lawsuit: String 24

Red String of Fate

The case had gone almost exactly to plan, and Haruhi was feeling the rush that came with a job well done.

She was also exhausted; some new evidence had been brought forward days before their court date, and it had taken a few sleepless nights to prove that the x-rays were not from the time when Suzuki-san had been under Kato-sensei's care.

"Congratulations," came a low, familiar voice, and Haruhi turned to find Ootori-san standing there, looking obnoxiously relaxed.

His confidence could be construed as flattering, at the very least, she thought wryly, and wondered how long he had been present. Even though it hadn't been necessary for him to be a part of the actual trail proceedings, she had been sure, from the type of personality he'd displayed, that he would be there, needing to oversee everything.

"I'm sorry I was late," he apologized unexpectedly, confirming that he had been planning to be there the whole time. "There was an emergency at the hospital."

"It was fine," she said, without really thinking. "We didn't need you."

His eyes creased – in another man, it would have been a smile, but she still shook her head.

"That wasn't what I meant," she apologized, just a tad frustrated that her words never came out exactly as they should with this man.

"No, no, please be honest," he insisted, and it took her a moment to understand that he was _joking_.

Haruhi didn't know what to make of it, or him.

"I was going to suggest dinner," he continued, "but you don't look hungry."

She was just a tad bit annoyed at his perceptiveness, and also the polite maneuvering of implying but not saying that she looked tired, as well as the allusion to his previous invitation.

"Tomorrow," he said, smiling slightly when she gave him a confused look. "Six o'clock."

"It's my day off!" she protested, scrambling for some refusal he would accept.

"Perfect," he murmured instead, before moving off to talk to Kato-san.

Haruhi felt the inevitability of tomorrow's date closer around her, and wondered why, out of all the arrogant, upper class men in Tokyo, she had to be continuously thrown off balance by _that_ one.


	20. Lawsuit: Joke 43

The Joke's On... Who?

The first time Kyouya saw Haruhi in a dress, he nearly spit his wine onto the pristine tablecloth in front of him.

It wasn't so much the shock of the dress, but the shock of not recognizing her at first glance, she was that… different.

He forced his eyes away, swallowed, and then turned back around.

The fact that she was wearing a dress in the first place was enough to make him blink, but he noted that her hair was down and flowing in loose curls around her face.

For once, he couldn't make a decision – he didn't know what to look (stare) at, or if he should try to recover his manners, and not look at all.

His gaze went to her legs and the decision was made for him; so far as he knew, Haruhi's wardrobe had consisted of baggy slacks, a button up shirt (usually covered by a jacket), and her hair shoved up in any way that would hold. If not for the long hair and wide eyes, she would've blended right in with the rest of her male colleagues.

The figure she was revealing tonight, though, could never be mistaken for a man's.

The host escorting her to his table seemed to be surreptitiously noticing that, too.

Kyouya lost the last few seconds of observing her to glare at the other male before she sat down.

Despite how nicely she was dressed, she looked haggard.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologized, having missed his perusal and the ensuing territorial exchange. "I got caught up with a case, and then…" She sighed, and then touched her hair self-consciously.

"And then?" he prompted, back in control now that there wasn't so much to distract him.

"My father was home," she muttered, and shoved a curl behind her ear as though to punish it for her changed appearance.

"I see," Kyouya murmured – and he did. Having met Fujioka senior once when he'd gone to pick her up, he'd suddenly understood a bit more about Haruhi's demure look.

It was a passive – but powerful – resistance to her father's effeminate ways.

"What was the case about?" he asked, and she gratefully took up the subject of work as their salads arrived.

She would only accept his paying for meals, so he was, week by week, taking her to every nice restaurant in town. Surprisingly enough, Haruhi seemed to be enjoying it. Or at least she liked the food enough to put up with his company.

They'd moved on to other things (and the main course) when Kyouya spotted someone he knew, and wished he had picked a less conspicuous place to eat this week.

There was no way he could ignore him or avoid speaking with him, especially not as the man was approaching with yet another acquaintance on his arm.

"Ootori-san, good evening," Tamaki said, voice smooth and light, face alive with curiosity. "It's been a while."

Kyouya gave a small sigh, standing up to extend a hand. "A few months," he agreed. And as manners dictated, he began the introductions.

"Haruhi, this is Suou-san. Suou-san, this is Fujioka-san."

"It's wonderful to meet you," the blonde enthused immediately, taking Haruhi's hand and shaking it eagerly. "I've never seen Ootori-san _willingly_ take a woman out to dinner," he added, winking outrageously at her. "And please let me introduce Kazuki-san to you."

The woman on his arm bowed shyly, glanced in Kyouya's direction and then blushed. She didn't look at him again, but smiled easily enough at Haruhi.

_Well_, Kyouya thought, noticing something else with a touch of amusement, _that _explained why it had been so easy to break off his father's plans for an omiai with the Kazuki family; Kazuki herself had been looking for something different.

Since Suou looked content to stand there with his date until more information was provided, Kyouya explained briefly how they had met.

"Sarada and Endo?" Suou asked, surprised. "But isn't that the firm Kaoru and Hikaru are using?"

"Ah, do you mean Hitachiin-san and Hitachiin-san?" Haruhi asked, and Kyouya's patience with the interruption took a nose dive.

"You've met them?" he asked sharply, disturbed at the thought of what mischief the two could wreck with Haruhi being so oblivious.

"I'm helping Endo-san with the last of their paperwork," she explained, and tilted her head to the side in a way that, hair down, was utterly charming. "Do _you_ know them?"

"Unfortunately," Kyouya muttered as he wondered who else was going to pop out of the woodwork to disrupt his evening. He scowled, and the other three took note, but didn't remark on it.

After a few more teasing remarks from Tamaki, they moved off to their own table and Kyouya and Haruhi sat back down.

"So..." she began carefully, attention thoroughly caught by his beleaguered expression. "A friend of yours?"

Kyouya scowled, and then let his mouth turn up in unconscious response to her - it was probably the first time Haruhi had tried to tease with him.

He finally settled on a shrug. "I suppose he's better than others."

"Oh?" she inquired, but he shook his head, determined that the rest of the evening was going to be spent talking about _them_.


	21. CU: Truth 29

Social Rounds

Despite having a full course load at Tokyo Medical and Dental University, and despite the fact that his brothers were already under his father's tutelage, Kyouya had become more and more involved in the family's hospital business.

The number of responsibilities and obligations increased every week, but Kyouya gloried in the kind of challenge this posed. His one difficulty had been avoiding marriage talks, but a quick plan fixed that problem too, for Haruhi remained one of the few female friends whom he trusted, and it was easy to talk (manipulate) her into helping him fend off unwanted attention. The only reason it worked so well, he knew, was because his father wanted a real match to form between them, and so kept any over-eager mothers away. Personally, Kyouya wasn't ready to make public his feelings towards marriage, whether it be marriage to Haruhi or anyone else.

Still, it was nice to be able to have an easy solution to the numerous business parties he had to attend, knowing that no misconceptions would arise on her part after the night was over. If anything, he wished she would assume _something_, sometime, to show him that he wasn't just another face, another friend who got the Haruhi treatment.

Usually, he was grateful for the reprieve, not needing to escort her around, or introduce her, for by this time her own work had thrust her into the social group he had grown up in. There was no need, either, to wait on her hand and foot like he might have been required to do, if it was a spoiled, upperclass girl on his arm.

He could discuss business as much as necessary, and not suffer any guilt in leaving Haruhi alone. In truth, she seemed to form her own, more personal connections with the upper class families who were involved in law while mingling at the parties. He saw it as a mutually beneficial relationship, one he was loath to give up.

And for now, there was no reason to. His father had finally let up on some of the pressure to see where Kyouya would take his part of the company, and Haruhi seemed pleased enough to make new acquaintances. She had always been like that, he recalled. She wouldn't seek people out, but at the same time, she was so automatically friendly, and genuinely kind that people were just drawn to her.

At the moment, however, he was stuck in conversation with a group of men his father's age, discussing the future of their businesses, and how they could possibly profit off one another, officially or privately.

Kyouya didn't really need to listen to them boast and brag to get the information he wanted; just a little hacking would tell him everything in much more concise and manageable terms, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Haruhi talking with his father and a few other young heirs, so he was content to wait.

From a distance it was hard to tell if the unusual girl was enjoying herself of not; before, he wouldn't have expected her to, but this was Fujioka Haruhi he was talking about, and despite her origins, she was the most uncommon woman he had ever known. So hypothetically, she _could _be enjoying herself.

He flicked a glance over the three most fawning young men facing her, calculating the odds that any of them would appeal to her. Over the last five years, she had never once shown interest in a man like the females they had gone to school with, and those who got close enough to be interested often found that their wealth and class status were more of a hindrance than a help in trying to woo her. Frankly, Haruhi just wasn't aware of men in a romantic sense. Those who were blunt enough to state their intentions towards her were politely but firmly turned down.

Kyouya had never met a girl who was so oblivious to her own attractions, or so careless about making a permanent alliance. From what her father had told him, she had grown up with an ideal marriage right in front of her, and yet she showed no ambition to attain what her mother had obtained.

Kyouya never tried to broach the subject with her; there was a subtle fear there, that if he ever approached her seriously, he would be kindly rejected like the rest – and he couldn't be sure how he would react at being lumped in with the rest of the losers and fools who hadn't been good enough. It was a case of patience, not cowardice, he thought: waiting for the opportune moment in which to open her eyes.

As the voices droned on, he wondered what it would take to convince her he wasn't just trying to gain a benefit, or trying to teach her a lesson. She was a smart girl; if they somehow ended up back on a bed again, would she realize the truth?

As one of the younger men bent over her hand, looking as though he would kiss it, Kyouya broke away from his group, plans changing in an instant. He went directly to her side, with a recklessness that was unlike himself, causing a speculative look to cross his father's face. He ignored it. Time enough to cover his tracks if this fell through.

There was only one way to know for sure if the future held anything for him, and even if she was so dense as to misunderstand a second time, Kyouya wasn't a man who gave up easily. A small smile curled the edge of his mouth. After all, he had always enjoyed a challenge.


	22. CU: Business 31

Business as Usual

The scratch of writing was as much a part of the Third Music Room as the gaudy drapes and satin pillows strewn around.

Haruhi watched as Tamaki and Honey-sempai bounced among the later items, acting worse than little girls at a sleepover.

She sighed, already exasperated with the new theme; no matter how many ideas Tamaki came up with, there was always another, more wasteful one that could be devised by the eccentric president.

The harem setting this time offended her eyes (the reds and pinks satin was blinding) and her remaining dignity. Normally she would deal with it as just their wealthy, wasteful behavior, but it had been a long week for her.

As the twins began a surprise attack on their blonde leader, Haruhi moved off, following the steady sound of Kyouya at work, knowing that wherever he was, there was bound to be a modicum of peace. The only one who might dare to cross Kyouya was Honey, because he was oblivious to the dangerous waves of threat that Kyouya would emit when angered.

For being a karate master, Honey was unexplainably dense when it came to bursting into bad situations. As though called by her thoughts of Honey, Mori appeared, nodding to her silently on his way to rescue Honey from being smothered by pillows.

With a quick glance behind herself to make sure the trouble-makers weren't paying attention, she darted behind a curtain, sighing with relief when she spotted the alcove Kyouya had created in one of the room's corners.

His head came up as she drew nearer, and the writing stopped.

"Yes?" he asked, voice polite but deliberately cold.

"Do you need any help, Kyouya-sempai?" she asked back, ignoring the cool tone for now; anything to escape the lunatics for a few minutes.

Kyouya seemed to still, as though considering how seriously she was asking, before tilting his head in a contemplative manner.

"I don't suppose you know anything about balancing profit lists and expenses, do you?" he asked, tone partly condescending, partly curious.

"It can't be much worse than balancing my father's accounts, right?" she asked, and sat down without permission. A week of overactive twins and Tamaki trying to shove new girly disguises on her was wearing her thin. She wasn't above using Kyouya's frightening aura to keep them away, at least for a short while.

She walked over to look past his shoulder at the neat marks of writing.

"And you're much more organized than Father."

Kyouya glanced to the side, taking in her focused eyes and the way she bit unconsciously at her bottom lip as she read over the club accounts.

"Why don't you give it a try, then? There's been a few extra expenses lately, thanks to our idiot "King." I'm going to have to dip into our savings to pay for everything, but as of yet, the exact amount Tamaki has wasted is just an estimate."

Haruhi smiled a little at his aggravated tone, and pulled a few pages out of his folder.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out in the end, Kyouya-sempai," she told him, and his gaze returned to her face, taking in the absolute confidence she had in his abilities, the fact that she understood what he could do, and did, for the Host Club on a daily basis.

A moment later he turned away, resolving yet again to examine his thoughts about the special academic student.


	23. CU: Autumn 4

Fall

Haruhi is asleep on the school lawn, and Kyouya doesn't know what to do.

It's not that he doesn't know what he _should _do, because the Host Club opens in exactly 4.5 minutes, and with how peaceful she's looking, Haruhi won't be on time.

As Vice-President and the most responsible member, it's his duty to wake her up and make sure she's working off her debt.

But the trees overhead are casting dappled shadows on her face, and the wind is just strong enough to have blown her hair over her brow.

Kyouya's not often aware of beauty, though he can point out which ukiyo-e has the most value, or expound upon why the cranes are only in the top left corner of a Chinese painting.

And Haruhi's not really beautiful to him, not aesthetically nor even in character. She might be smart, but there are plenty of smart people; Kyouya grew up in a family known for brilliance.

But before today, he had believed the thing that made her different from anyone he had ever met was a characteristic that came forth when she was awake: moving and in action.

It was disconcerting to realize he had been wrong about that. Something drew his interest, even when she was asleep.

Kyouya was seriously debating leaving her there to catch cold, just for making him doubt himself, as well as for creating a question he wasn't quite sure he wanted to be investigating.

"Kyouya-senpai," she said, soundly mildly surprised.

He glanced back down at her, face impassive.

She didn't look very sleepy, but the swipe at her eyes convinced him that she had missed his long perusal. He considered telling her the time, but she spoke before he did.

"All these leaves… Mother would have wanted to press them into books. She thought they were so beautiful. Beautiful, but fleeting."

Kyouya watched her, a little curious that she could, indeed, look like a normal girl when her eyes went soft. He was also curious as to why she had decided to share such a memory with _him._

Tamaki would be much more appreciative and interested a listener, valuing the recollection like an expensive trinket.

"I guess they're pretty," she continued a moment later, beginning to stand up and brush off. "But they're just dying leaves in the end."

Kyouya couldn't quite hold back his chuckle, but when she turned questioning eyes on him, he merely flashed his ambiguous smile.

They walked in companionable silence to the Third Music Room, Haruhi still occupied with memories of her mother.

Kyouya glanced down every now and then, surreptitiously gauging the girl.

The strange allure was still there, and he couldn't be sure if it was just the mystery of her unpredictable nature, or something more. But for now, he wouldn't worry over it.

He stopped her from opening the door when they reached it, blocking her for just a moment, drawing her attention upwards.

"Kyouya-senpai?" she questioned him.

"I think leaves have more beauty in the fall, too," he told her, smiling enigmatically again, and pushed the door open.


	24. CU: Lies 30

Self-Deception

He had felt from the first that this was a possible ending; in the years he had known and observed Tamaki, never had his best friend and rival been so thrown off balance as he was the day Fujioka Haruhi had joined the Host Club.

_A start towards love?,_ he had wondered, and five years later, it seemed his prediction had come true.

As Haruhi told Tamaki to calm down, _'Please_, _for the sixteenth time!_' he smiled at them both, and told the groom he would check on the preparations.

Leaving the room, he ran into Hikaru and Kaoru, wearing suits that matched his own, if with perhaps a little more embellishment.

Hikaru looked lively, as usual, and was already calling out insults to his former 'lord.'

Kyouya glanced at Kaoru, and was disconcerted to see a look of shell-shock on his face. Knowing what he did of Kaoru's previous plans for Hikaru and the young woman in the room behind him, it was obvious that even with months to get used to the idea; he hadn't been able to accept losing Haruhi to anyone other than his brother.

It reminded him, for a moment, of feelings he had quite purposely kept from thinking about.

However, knowing that another member of their group had been as unprepared for the match as he had been, even watching for years as the courtship progressed…

With only a little effort, he turned his thoughts back to what needed to be done.

Tamaki would be in no shape to see to the caterers, or to correct the florist (misguided by Ranka-san's instructions to braid the bouquets into Haruhi's hair) fuchsia would _not_ flatter the bride's dress. And Honey was already giving the cake hungry glances.

Mori would likely restrain him, but that meant he wouldn't be good for much else.

Kyouya sighed, and wondered why Tamaki hadn't hired someone - or even a staff - to take care of things.

A few hours later, the reception was still in full swing, despite the fact that the bride and groom were long gone.

It would be time, soon, to direct clean up and to ask the police force to come deliver the gifts to the small mansion the couple would be moving into upon their return.

Kyouya sighed quietly, and glanced at the refreshment table. Some wine sounded like a good idea…

He wasn't surprised to find, after his first long sip, Kaoru standing beside him.

The expression on his face had changed from belated shock to one of subdued pain.

"It's best this way," he advised the more serious twin. "Tamaki will see to it that she doesn't fade away in her office like before."

In the past two years, they had seen little of Haruhi other than when she was being forced out by the lively blond.

They were all busy with their new lives, but Haruhi had worked her usual 120 percent to achieve her goal. Though they had teased her as a group about being a workaholic, they all secretly admired her dedication. As usual.

Kaoru's lips flattened into a shallow frown, and he met Kyouya's eyes for a moment, watching him with a muted wrath that Kyouya could see had been turned inward for quite a while.

And he felt unusually stupid and slightly clumsy for having said anything to begin with.

After all, out of all the former members of the Host Club, Kaoru was the one who knew well that every word was a lie.


	25. CU: Traffic 50

Traffic Troubles

Sometimes, she can't help but be a little disturbed by him, when his voice goes to that blasé-yet-deadly tone that tells you - you've just run out of options.

He also has a look that screams inside your head '_Run, run! RUN!'_ and yet there's no escape.

So when he combined those two things and used them against her, Haruhi couldn't help but shiver with a feeling of foreboding, never mind that he said last week that their lunches and dinners were actually "dating."

"Um, yes, Kyouya-sem… Kyouya?" she asked, mentally cursing her slip of the tongue. Ever since graduation, he had given them those creepy smiles when they accidentally added on the sempai to his name, but his aura was still so intimidating at times that she mentally reverted back to the high school girl who was head over heels in debt.

"_Why_ is my father asking questions about your career?" he asked, and Haruhi wished they weren't in a limo, moving at 100 kilometers an hour. She couldn't very well jump out, even if she were insane enough to consider it.

"I don't know?" she tried, wishing to herself that she had some answer… if just to avoid having to look into those eyes.

She had thought the glasses added to the threatening appearance, but she now had the unfortunate revelation that this was not the case.

The glasses, shading his eyes on those terrifying occasions, kept people from being turned to ash, no matter that the shine alone could make a grown man cry like a girl. Now that barrier, for those times she didn't want to know what he was thinking, was gone.

Right now, only a few strands of hair disobedient to his will hung before burning gray steel.

Haruhi looked back, not fearless, but not stupid. She didn't have anything to hide.

Kyouya sighed, and eased back a little – just enough to let Haruhi sigh, but not with relief.

"It's only been two weeks," he muttered under his breath, and Haruhi tilted her head, frowning lightly at him.

"Two weeks…?"

Those piercing eyes caught her again, then softened.

"No. Never mind." His thoughts seemed to wander, until he noticed her office apparel.

"Are you going to change before we get there?" he asked, slipping away to sit on the seat across from her. "The twins mentioned some new design they had sent you."

She nodded, rummaging through her bag.

"I like it," she said, and his brow rose in surprise. The twins did excellent work for their mother's company, certainly, but Haruhi generally preferred said work on their willing models, not pinned and fitted to _her_.

She unbuttoned her suit jacket and laid it on the seat, working at the buttons of her shirt next.

When she went to shake out the dress, though, she noticed that Kyouya's gaze was settled firmly on her knees, cheeks just the slightest shade of pink.

"Kyouya?" she asked, and he cleared his throat as though deep in thought. And still didn't meet her eyes.

It took her another moment to realize he was _embarrassed_, of all things, and glanced down at herself.

"I'm not naked," she said with typical, straight-forward logic, and he grunted in response.

After a moment she shrugged, and pulled the dress over her tank top, wriggling out of her pants once she had done up the dress ties.

"Perhaps it would be wiser for you to change in your office, in the future," Kyouya commented finally, and she gave him a wry grin.

"For convenience's sake?" she asked, grateful that the mood had passed, and he met her eyes, perfectly composed again.

"Of course."

She smiled to herself as they exited the car.


	26. CU: Smoke 56

Smoke Screen

Once, Kyouya had trapped her on a bed, threatening to make her pay her debts with her body.

Several times afterward, he had commented that he would not act for the benefit of others in a situation where there was no merit for him, personally.

Once, he had stared down at her, his understanding of who she was shifting and changing his world – and he'd also instantly seen the impossibility of it. His modus operandi was without flaw; there was no merit in looking below his station.

* * *

Once, she had watched him unwind and act normal - rude, even. She had seen him lose his temper, and show unguarded surprise.

He insisted that everything he did was for profit.

Once, she had seen through him, and that one understanding gave her the key to deciphering all that had come before.

He had smiled that enigmatic smile at her conclusion, and tilted his head _just so_… and she had pushed her thoughts away, instinctively knowing it was impossible.

* * *

Once, he had believed that Tamaki's view could influence his own enough to make winning the game possible.

Once, she had seen a different future in his eyes.

* * *

Haruhi experiences the world of a young working adult much as she has experienced the rest of her life: she observes, learns and then makes her own unique way through it.

She doesn't refuse the old host club members' attempts to stay connected. Though she is still frequently exasperated by them, their friendship has become something precious to her.

She encourages Tamaki's ambitions towards his family's company, and listens to his concerns and worries when he has the time to stop by and talk. But she doesn't share her own struggles with him. The time for that kind of reciprocal relationship has passed, for them.

* * *

It becomes common for her to turn down offers for dinner after her twenty-fifth birthday.

She wonders if all of her colleagues have been pressured by the company to marry soon; she doesn't ever consider the smooth, dark hair that has grown past her shoulders, or the maturity that has been re-shaping her features.

* * *

In the long fight to prove his worth, Kyouya has been forced to forge new relationships, built on mutual-self-benefit and business deals. He has given up the time that old relationships used to occupy.

At the end of it all, sitting behind his own desk at the top of his family's building, the only thing he wants to do is call Tamaki, or Kaoru, or even Honey-sempai. His thoughts touch on one other face, but he shies away from thinking of _her_.

* * *

When Tamaki calls to tell her about the celebration party they're holding for Kyouya's succession, Haruhi listens attentively, for once interested to know what the truth beneath all the gossip is.

Before Tamaki can get too far into prying a promise to attend from her, she agrees to come, and to see about bringing some drinking snacks.

A memory from years ago teases her brain, reminding her that despite the time that's passed, even Kyouya is one of her important people.

* * *

Kyouya wonders if Haruhi has ever considered romance - in regards to herself. She's so straightforward, maybe too straightforward, but he thinks to himself that he's never been so glad of that fact in his life.

If she hadn't come to the party, and if she hadn't shown that quick understanding of his real self, he would have left it alone. Really.

Because even if she does understand and accept him, they're vastly different people, from very different backgrounds. Haruhi doesn't give a fig about social status or unspoken rules... and _he_ cares all too much.

* * *

Still, the day comes when he turns down all the matches offered to him, and forced to face his father, informs him that he has made his own choice. For long, tense minutes his father scrutinizes his face, but at the end of it, surprises Kyouya by chuckling.

When he says, "Good," Kyouya is surprised to realize that his father's approval no longer means everything to him.

But he's also surprised to discover that it means _something_.

* * *

Haruhi only allows him to see her shock for a moment, for in the next, her welcoming smile and easy acceptance of his inexplicable presence are giving him reassurance he hadn't even known he needed.

Kyouya's barely aware of the curious, and even resentful, glancing being sent his way as they walk out of her office, to start the first of many lunches eaten together.


	27. CU: Hang 59

Hanging Out, or Social Climbing

Tamaki has rediscovered a favorite pastime.

The twins, almost always ready for a contest, scramble up, shouting out challenges to their lord. After griping for two seconds about not waiting for him to give instructions, Tamaki races after then, ignoring the scratches and bumps he accumulates on his way up in his enthusiasm to beat the twins.

Still on the ground, Haruhi sighs.

It isn't as though she's never climbed a tree before, but really, she'd thought those days long past. But with Tamaki-sempai planning their club activities, she is learning that her childhood is never too far behind her.

"We might as well get it over with," Kyouya comments, sounding annoyed. Mori lifts Honey up to the first branch, and the small karate champion climbed up like a pro, giving encouragement to the others as he went.

Mori offers her a boost, and Haruhi thanks him, grateful that she doesn't have to ask _Kyouya_-sempai for help.

Kyouya pauses for a moment after Mori starts up, sighing softly as he thinks of the damage this will likely do to his uniform. Past the first branch, he almost loses his glasses when he straightens too quickly, and runs into a bunch of leaves. Biting back his irritation and the desire to snap at Tamaki, he reaches for the next branch.

A few moments later he catches up with Haruhi, who looks perfectly content to stay where she is.

"Kyouya-sempai! I didn't expect you to participate this time," she comments, and he leans back against the main trunk to catch his breath and his balance. Despite Tamaki often coming up with these stupid ideas, he rarely has to expend so much physical energy in keeping up with the idiot.

Something suddenly occurs to him, and his brow begins to tick in anger. Glancing up at the freshman, he decides that asking her would be better than asking any of the other Host Club members.

"Haruhi."

Her attention is grabbed by his too-calm tone, which usually precedes an irritated mood. She raises an eyebrow in question.

"How do you get down from here?"

Haruhi just barely keeps the look of disbelief off her face. This is perhaps the first time she has ever seen Kyouya-sempai do something without first thinking it through, and the first time he's also been at a loss for a solution immediately after. Watching his unwavering stare morphing into a glare, she quickly gulps and slides farther along on the branch she is sitting on.

"You have to lower yourself down," she explains, showing him as she lowers her body off the tree limb down to the one he is standing on. She dangles by her hands for a moment, gathering her balance and her courage – she's a few inches too short to reach it with her feet. Then she lets go, eyes going comically wide as she hits the branch and wobbles, trying not to flail too badly and so fall the remaining ten feet to the ground.

Kyouya grabs at her, a bit horrified himself at her near-fall, and pulls with more strength than he had intended.

Haruhi collides with his chest with a surprised 'oomph,' and both stay there for a full five seconds from sheer shock - and a little bit of having the wind knocked out of them.

"Sorry," she says a moment later, pushing away. "Maybe we should wait for Mori and Honey to come back down to help us."

Kyouya is silent, his glasses at that precise angle where she can't see his eyes. Resigning herself to waiting until the others reach the top and then return down, she sits down on the wider branch and focuses her mind on dinner, and whether she has the ingredients necessary to make katsu-udon for two.

When he feels her attention is completely off of him, Kyouya shifts his gaze down to Haruhi's head, and speculates.

A moment later a blond head descends in front of his face, and it is only the golden brown eyes staring innocently into his that stop an angry tirade.

"Kyou-chan, whatcha doing?" Honey asks. Haruhi's attention is pulled back to the present moment, and she smiles up at the senior.

"I'm afraid I can't get down, Honey-senpai," she explains, saving Kyouya from looking… well, _incompetent_ at tree climbing. "Is Mori-senpai on his way?" she asks.

"Yup," Honey replies, and leaps down nimbly to sit beside her. "Hey, hey! Let's hang, Haru-chan!"

He proceeds to do just that without waiting for a response, and begins to giggle. After watching him swing by the knees for a few moments, Haruhi gives in to the inevitable and twists around to do the same. Kyouya merely stares at them, wondering if the Host Club is going to be reduced to such ideas like this for the rest of the year. A second later he decides to make Tamaki's life miserable until the blonde tones it down to the kinds of stupid things he can handle.

Relieved at this conclusion and plan of action, Kyouya releases the last of his remaining anger. Still, it's almost worth the trouble, to see a few inches of Haruhi's middle as her school blazer struggles against gravity.

Next time, he is definitely staying on the ground. He would have a better view.


	28. CU: Cheeky 63

Getting Cheeky

Tamaki only noticed because it was Haruhi, instead of, say, Honey or the twins.

That wasn't to say he would have actively noted any of the three giving Kyouya the look Haruhi was giving him, though it would have subconsciously disturbed him.

Still, _this_ was downright making him shiver, and quickly bringing on the fire that erupted any time someone or something was threatening his daughter.

"Mother, that is incest!" he screeched, and brought the other club members to a grinding halt as their attention moved from him, to Kyouya, to Haruhi.

Kyouya looked both irritated and amused, while Haruhi gave him the usual look that clearly spelled her opinion of 'You're obnoxious.'

Tamaki died, sinking slowly to the floor.

"What are you babbling about now, tono?" Hikaru asked, leaning over his prone form.

"And stop implying nasty things about Haruhi," Kaoru added, having reached the end of his tolerance a half hour earlier, when Tamaki had dubbed his winter costume "gay," and rhymed it with "stay **away** from Haruhi."

"Haruhi was, Haruhi was… _looking _at him," he whimpered, eyes shut in horror as he replayed the look he had intercepted from his favorite commoner.

The twins spun to glance at Haruhi in question, both raising their brows as she blushed lightly.

A quick glare sent Kyouya's way was like the scent of fresh meat to bloodhounds, and they were on her in a second.

"_So_, how were you looking at mother, Ha-ru-hi?" Kaoru asked, setting a hand around her waist.

"Were you looking with _longing,_ Haru_hi_," Hikaru asked, fingers tangling in her hair.

"I wasn't looking like anything," the scholarship student objected, and freed herself from the twins' grip with practiced movements. A final glare at Tamaki caused him to swoon in dismay.

After looking at her carefully, they both shrugged and gave up; after all, the chances that Haruhi would be looking at the vice president with anything other than muted horror were slim to none.

An hour later, the costumes had been put away and decorations shoved in a closet. Kyouya wouldn't stand for things being thrown out that were likely to be used again, or that could be sold for a profit.

Assuming that Haruhi had bolted as soon as possible for home, Tamaki gave one last offended sniff and left the bespectacled heir alone in the club room.

The his typing ceased, and the dark head came up, tilting unconsciously to the side as he listened to the receding footsteps.

"You can come out now," he called, eyes refocusing on the screen.

The storage door opened, and Haruhi peeked out, making sure he was correct.

Her shoes clicked as she walked across the floor to him, looking slightly irritated.

"Can I have it now?" she asked, and with a chuckle, Kyouya unlocked his school bag and produced a wrapped bento.

"You almost lost today," he commented, and she gave him a brief glare before it was replaced by a blissful look at the appearance of her precious ootoro.

"If you're not careful, Tamaki is going to realize what you're doing," she informed him pertly, still annoyed that she was apparently this easy to manipulate.

"He isn't cunning enough," he absently replied.

She sighed, giving the argument up. Personally, she agreed, but the blonde could sometimes be strangely perceptive, and usually when she least expected it.

"You don't actually have to fulfill the nickname Hikaru and Kaoru gave you, you know," she remarked, and a small grin appeared, evidence that he wasn't really ignoring her.

He chose to side-step her comment.

"You're a messy eater."

She stayed perfectly still as he gripped her chin in his hand and leaned across the table, intent on a grain of rice.

The little flick was miniscule and sly, and yet all of her attention stayed focused on that spot until he was back in his seat, typing away.

Haruhi had learned to disregard these bizarre moments just as she disregarded his illogical additions to her debt; if she had been paying correct attention, he had added another million yen just this week. The two actions meant the same thing – he was purposely being impossible to understand.

It had hurt her brain the first time she had tried to reason it out, so she had stopped trying. This way, she didn't worry about the future.

Kyouya's attention glanced to the side, straight to her, and her heart gave an erratic jump. She was no longer sure if the nervousness stemmed from being under his control, or if it was being at the end of those strangely scorching glances.

No worries for the future. Right.


	29. CU: Rush 92

Rushed Decisions

He had her up against something uncomfortable, was her second thought. That was probably a loose board digging into her second vertebrae.

Of course, her first thought hadn't really been made up of any _words_, more like an explosion of shock and disbelief.

And it was all because Kyouya Ootori had snapped.

It occurred to her that leaving him waiting for a month might have something to do with her present circumstances.

Not that she was really thinking about this, because she wasn't.

Because she could feel the warmth of his breath _against_ _her lips!_

Suddenly, she wanted to give him the answer he'd been waiting for. She wanted to give him the answer _right now_…!

With a forceful push she managed to get him to back away, startled to see that his eyes were more guarded than ever before, an expression of near-uncertainty on his face.

From that alone, she knew she was making the right decision.

"Yes, I'm okay with the deal," she said, and since Kyouya was not at all an idiot, he got it.

The flash of satisfaction on his face she ignored; for being indecisive for a month, she'd ignore that much.

He gave a soft exhale, which she understood to be relief. Haruhi quirked one brow, silently asking him why.

"I told myself six weeks," he answered, and her expression encouraged him to continue.

With an exasperated huff, he added, "I was going to have the patience to wait six weeks before asking you again."

She thought about this.

"It hasn't been six weeks," she informed him with characteristic accuracy, and the corner of his mouth curled up with humor.

"True. But I'm sure _that_ counted as an interrogation."

After a moment of searching his eyes, she shrugged.

"I already knew that you can be ruthless when you want something."

He considered her for likely the hundredth time, trying to figure out just how Haruhi Fujioka worked.

Perhaps his shield was defective with some people; after all, she could clearly see the thoughts beneath his surface calm right now.

Just as she was ready to suggest a return to the Third Music Room, he bent down to her ear.

"Six months. That's all the time I can give you," he said, and his breath moved the hair near her ear.

It wasn't that, though, that made her shudder. It was his words, his slightly threatening tone…

There was a different smile on his face when he pulled back, the curve of lips barely there but enough to surprise her, all the same.

When he bent again and brushed the lightest of kisses on her cheek, she couldn't control the color of her face, no matter how diligently she thought of the other hosts' possible reactions.


	30. CU: Sushi 83

Collateral

He asked her to marry him as he handed over a platter of ootoro.

Haruhi paused long enough before accepting the plate to give him a skeptical and disbelieving look, dismissing his words a moment later to eat one of her favorite foods.

However, when he kept his silence, she knew he was waiting, so she turned and carefully analyzed his expression.

He remained unruffled.

"Do you have to try and bribe _everyone_, Kyouya-sempai?" she inquired with genuine curiosity, picking up another piece with her chopsticks. Between bites of bliss, she listened attentively.

He seriously considered her question.

"It never hurts to tip the scales," he finally responded, and she sighed.

"What about once a week?" he continued, and she turned momentarily startled eyes up to his face.

"Kyouya-sempai, please don't," she stopped him, feeling torn between a laugh and slight dismay. "Yes, alright? Okay."

He stilled at that, going an even more still than usual, which helped clue her into what his very active brain must be going through.

"You could have just asked the normal way, you know," she told him casually, already half-way through the plate.

Kyouya turned to look down at her, busy eating, and gave a small smile.

"No," he quietly disagreed. _Nothing is ever 'normal' with you… despite how normal you may first appear._

"As always, you come straight to the point," he commented quietly, and she paused mid-bite at that, considering the truth of his statement. It was just her habit to do away with unnecessary words, if clarity could be attained more easily.

"On the off chance that you would say no, I would have liked…" he trailed off, considering the present situation.

"Leverage?" she asked.

His lips quirked in a small grin.

"If you prefer to call it that."

Picking up the last grains of rice from the plate, Haruhi stood up to dispose of it, when Kyouya stopped her, a hand on her wrist.

He was too prideful, or too uncertain (he didn't know which it was, in truth) to ask _why_, but she read that in his face, anyways.

"For the normal reasons," she told him, and after hesitating a moment, seemed to come to a decision. She leaned in.

It was light and cool and anything but casual, so when she pulled away from him to throw away the trash, his grip no longer had the strength to stop her.

And that fact was, perhaps, the scariest of them all.

Still, he couldn't regret having asked her.


	31. CU: Pitch 89

Pitching Forward

The first time Haruhi realizes that Kyouya actually cares about Tamaki as a friend, she's surprised and a little stunned.

He hides his heart well, she thinks.

When he goes head to head, genuinely, with his best friend during the sports festival, she realizes he's suppressing more than just his heart.

It inevitably makes her curious. (But then she remembers that curiosity is usually dangerous, and in combination with Kyouya, probably deadly.)

So she puts it to the side and passively observes. It's a habit and almost a hobby. Everyone is complex, she knows, even Tamaki. But Kyouya is like a master puzzle… and like any other puzzle, pieces are bound to turn up, eventually.

It's small things that catch her eye, because Kyouya is nothing if not discreet.

Haruhi just happens to be uniquely gifted in observing certain things.

One genuine smile when the others are occupied; a sigh, not of resignation but familiarity when Tamaki suggests some other wild plan; a few words that alert Honey to the reason why Mori has been more silent than usual… they all add up and fill in the blanks, far faster than she had expected them to.

Devious smiles, sharp words, cold eyes and disapproving silence fill in more.

It's his concern about Tamaki's mother, though, that really is the key in giving her access to the bigger picture of who Kyouya Ootori really is.

When he returns from France, he's just the same, she notes. Completely successful, devious, kind, vengeful, and undeniably loving. It doesn't matter that the last is hidden so deeply as to appear nonexistent – she's seen it, and finally understands.

The fact that she has finally seen and accepted all those pieces is enough to shake her, just a little. Because she can't look at him anymore and see the distant, self-interested man she first met.

It takes her a while, though, to realize why she can't just let go of her discovery, and move on.

It takes a little help.

Tamaki leaves early, needing to meet his mother's plane – his father has contacted her and ordered her to come "home" after Tamaki's choice to step down as heir; the twins are helping their mother with an upcoming fashion show, and skipped today's club with apologies.

Honey and Mori are essentially twiddling their thumbs (well, Honey is) while Haruhi absent-mindedly sweeps the (already clean) floor.

Kyouya, as usual, is typing away, likely building up companies while simultaneously balancing the Host Club budget in lieu of the 24 cakes Honey has devoured that day.

She only notices that Honey and Mori have left, because the typing stops.

"You've been looking at me lately," he says, and she wonders why she hadn't predicted _this_. Out of all the hosts, Kyouya is the most observant, and his habit of catching nearly everything is legendary.

His shoes make a precise tap-tapping noise as he approaches, and Haruhi wonders if this is what it feels like to have a predator stalk you. He pauses in front of her, close enough that she can feel his breath brushing her hair, if she concentrates hard enough. Haruhi decides that concentrating on his tie – perfectly straight – would be a wiser idea.

She wants to respond, say, 'Yes, sorry, I'll try to stop,' or something to that effect – anything to get him a few more inches away.

Instead, he gets closer, lifting her chin up so that she has to meet his eyes. He notes that she does so without fear, a usual occurrence with this girl, and considers her for long moments.

When the difference finally strikes him, his grip loosens a bit and his eyes widen.

The curiosity that's always looking out at him is gone, and he suddenly realizes that she is looking straight through him.

It's a struggle not to rub at his forehead in exasperation; he should have seen this coming from that first moment at the beach. Rather than doing that, though, or sighing at his decided lack of foresight, he examines her one more time.

He takes in the acceptance she's unknowingly offered him, and moves his hand from her chin to the back of her neck. If her acceptance is on offer for free, he won't turn it down.

This time, it's Haruhi's eyes that are widening, and she sucks in a surprised breath –

Which is quickly cut off.

Haruhi suddenly knows why she wasn't able to move past her discovery of who he really is.


	32. CU: Limited 93

Limited Opportunities

When the day comes that Tamaki steps down as a potential heir of the Suou company, Kyouya congratulates him, shakes his hand, and informs him that he's missed his chance.

Tamaki doesn't have long to try and figure out what he means, because a minute later Kyouya is asking Haruhi to dinner. When she dubiously agrees, he watches her for a moment, notes the face she makes when thinking something through, and quite bluntly explains.

"It will be a _date_."

Tamaki's dropped jaw (along with the others' expressions) and sputtering objections have no effect on Kyouya, except to produce a small, slightly smug smile.

Haruhi merely wonders if this is more like walking yourself to the execution block, or getting in the way of a starved lion.

"It's not going to be over 10,000 yen," she told him, utterly serious, and they all pause in various states of shock or outrage to stare at her.

After a moment, Kyouya's small smile turns into a full blown smirk.

Haruhi gives a small shudder, and pretends she never saw it. She's going to have to ask her father for a skirt, she thinks, and wonders if he will ever let her live it down. _Doubtful._

The resulting mental dismay allows her to ignore the multiple (and loud) protests coming from the other Hosts.


	33. CU: Steal 97

Community Property

"How could you have picked him?" Tamaki wailed, clinging to Haruhi's arm as soon as the young woman entered the room.

"Tamaki-senpai," she began, sounding irritated already, but the twins soon latched onto her too, causing her irritation to fade into resignation.

"Really, Haruhi, couldn't you have been a little bit more imaginative?" Hikaru complained, waiting until his lord turned away to wink at the others.

Kyouya sighed, wondering what mischief the two had thought up now.

"At least Mori is more interested in fighting!" Kaoru added, causing the tall, quiet man to look mildly mortified and embarrassed.

Honey glared at them both from his post on Mori's shoulders.

"You're just sore losers!" he taunted them, sparking a horrified gasp from Tamaki and peeved expressions from the twins.

And just like that, the attack was turned a different way.

"Kyou-ya!" Tamaki whined, pulling at his best friend's sleeve. "How could you steal our daughter?"

It was the twins turn to look disgusted.

"That would be incest," Kaoru muttered, and Kyouya raised one brow in silent question.

"Ours is fake!" Hikaru shouted, face red and angry. The twins took a noticeable step away from each other. "You know that," he grumbled, obviously dropping his attack as they moved off to come up with suitable retribution.

Tamaki was still clutching at him, Kyouya was annoyed to notice. The blonde's next words, however, were aimed at Haruhi again.

"You'll never have fun again," he hypothesized. "You- you.. you won't get past the police!"

"But Tamaki-senpai, there's really no merit to be gained from dating me," Haruhi stated, as if it was an obvious fact, stopping the rest of the Host Club cold. Kyouya cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his files.

Tamaki approached her with horror written across his face.

"He said… you… what… no _merit_?" Tamaki choked out. Haruhi gave him a confused stare.

"It's nothing to get so upset about, Tamaki-sempai. It was just dinner."

She might as well have said she'd fallen violently in love during the second course, for all the reaction the twins and king responded with.

In the midst of their screams of protest, she just looked aggravated by the drama.

Honey, in the meantime, had directed Mori over to Kyouya's side.

"So why did you do it, Kyou-chan, if there's no merit?"

Kyouya glanced up at the two seniors, taking in the curious and solemn expressions. He pushed his glasses up with one finger before regarding them with something like amusement.

"I suppose it was just because… I wanted to."


	34. CU: River 5

This one is based off the anime story line.

Turning Point

Some would undoubtedly regard Haruhi and Tamaki's plunge into the river that pivotal day as a reason for him to feel jealous or insecure, in the face of Haruhi's devotion to their President.

Instead, he is quietly reassured.

Not just by Tamaki's decision to stay with them, but also by the fact that Haruhi has chosen to acknowledge how precious the Host Club, and by definition, _all_ its members, are to her.

After all, if he is to ever have a chance to change her thinking, he will first have to know her scorn for the Host Club members has disappeared.

The extremes she has gone to today to keep them together gives him hope.

He mentally marks it as a turning point, but doesn't feel the need to share this with anyone.

* * *

Kyouya's never wasted pretty manners on Haruhi, not even after she's earned his respect.

This is because it is not necessary. Because she could care less about the details of how upper class citizens should behave, and furthermore, she has already seen through the act.

He also knows that should he use friendly manners with her, Haruhi would only grow suspicious of some scheme.

Back when they had first met, Kyouya had intentionally revealed his own personal mask, though his initial reason was far different than the one motivating him now.

So he will not make the effort to look good in front of her, because he's looking farther into the future.

For if Haruhi might ever be persuaded to choose him, she will need to know exactly who it is that she's taking on.

* * *

For now though, she is happy to be with them - all of them. And as she drips dry, her laughter is confirmation of that.

As the sun sets beyond the bridge, Kyouya makes another silent, personal note.

For the first time he's willing. Willing, and quite possibly eager, to let someone else see it all, ready to take a chance on being chosen, or not.


	35. CU: Allergy 12

Overdose

Honey huddled miserably in the starched hospital bed, looking read to cry at any moment.

When Haruhi walked in, he teared up from sheer relief.

"Haru-chan!" he wailed, and she blinked, a little surprised by his volume.

"Honey-senpai?"

"A-am I g-gonna *sniff* d-die?" he asked, and then burst into tears, missing Haruhi's quiet sigh. She patted his heaving back in a comforting manner.

"You're not dying, Honey-senpai. People get diagnosed with this every day."

"R-really?" His blue eyes regarded her trustingly.

A sense of foreboding went through her, but she smiled at him.

"Let's just hear what Kyouya has to say, ne?"

They didn't have to wait long, for Kyouya followed his wife's entrance not ten minutes later.

"Kyou-chan, is there a cure?" Honey asked in a brave spirit.

Kyouya paused, and eyed his older friend.

"There's been a cure, of sorts, for years," he replied. "But you have to be faithful to your health from now on… which is why I've given Mori-senpai the detailed instructions for your new diet."

Honey turned pale. "M-my diet?"

Haruhi wondered if they would notice if she slipped out now.

Probably.

"Yes. Honey-senpai, from now you must be very careful. You could have a relapse if you eat too much of it again."

"_What_?"

Haruhi flinched uneasily from Honey's shrilly booming voice.

Kyouya cleared his throat.

"Think of it as an allergy. After all, it is for a lifetime."

Neither Honey nor Haruhi smiled at the metaphor.

Kyouya cleared his throat again.

"Well, diabetes _is _like an allergy," he persisted. "An allergy to sugar."

Honey's scream could be heard from miles away.

Haruhi and Kyouya left Honey's room at an unsteady walk.

"I think my ears are bleeding," Kyouya shouted.

"Serves you right," Haruhi muttered, hearing his voice as though from far away, and glad that he probably couldn't hear her. "You were too happy about being the one to break the news to him."


	36. CU: Bleach 23

Bleach™

Haruhi was reading over Renge's script.

Glancing up, she spied Tamaki across the club room, already rhapsodizing about the new theme.

Perhaps it was too late to stop things, but Haruhi did _not _like the way Renge's story was heading.

This 'Strawberry' person was supposed to rescue the 'Black Butterfly,' while 'The White Dragon' would be winning the 'Hime's' hand in marriage by sewing her beautiful clothes.

Glancing through the other pages, Haruhi thought she might have a chance to cripple things, if it was done carefully...

First, she handed Kyouya her copy of the script.

He had been too "busy" to receive his own when Renge swooped in, though Haruhi didn't believe this was the _real_ reason behind the limited copies.

Renge had also been unconcerned that the twins were off in a corner making their own plans; for their inattention, they hadn't received a packet of papers either.

Of the other three, only Tamaki seemed to have been interested enough to examine it, and it was clear from his excited conference with Renge what he thought.

So Haruhi asked Mori if she could borrow his copy and handed it to the twins.

Five minutes later, Kyouya handed the papers back to her, and seemed to focus even more on his computer, typing away at an accelerated pace.

Ten minutes later, the twins converged on Tamaki with outraged yells.

To make completely sure she wouldn't be dying her hair, Haruhi pointed out to Honey exactly the role he was being asked to play, and made sure Mori was listening, too.

When Honey's eyes filled with horror, and then tears, the stoic man carried him over to Tamaki as well, a gimlet look in his eyes.

Haruhi sat down at the table and poured herself a cup of tea, for once quite content with the sounds of a dispute behind her.

Looking aggrieved, Tamaki broke free and raced to Kyouya's side.

"Kyouya, tell them about the swords! We get to wear _swords!_"

"_We _don't," the twins said in unison, faces revealing one of their sincerely bad moods.

"Ah, Tamaki. I meant to inform you: the school's policy forbids bringing weapons onto the grounds without consensus from the Board."

Tamaki looked stunned, but rallied again in moments.

"Never fear! I will go speak with the School Board myself. Don't worry, Haruhi, I'll get this -"

"Ah. Tamaki. Did I forget to mention that we are low on resources right now? We'll need to fund-raise for several months just to purchase your sword alone."

The glasses glinted.

"Unless you're offering to pay for it yourself?"

For a moment, Tamaki seemed to consider it, but Renge's overblown and expensive ideas were well-known to all the hosts.

Thwarted at every turn, Tamaki gave up, and went to break the bad news to Renge.

Haruhi nibbled at a biscuit as the other hosts dispersed to individual pursuits around the room. She was quite pleased with her success, and her ability to move the individual hosts if she absolutely had to.

The typing across the table continued; she scrutinized Kyouya's face for long moments.

"New glasses?" she asked, trying to stifle sudden amusement.

He paused and met her eyes, then smiled enigmatically.

"Not _all _of Renge's comparisons were off," he responded smoothly.

For a moment they were both silent.

"Just don't take up archery," Haruhi requested, and he nodded once, sharply.

They understood each other quite well.

* * *

A/N: If you didn't get this, http:/ .org /wiki/ Bleach_(manga) - take out the spaces. I tried to imply things, but if you don't know Bleach: Tamaki as Ichigo, Haruhi as Rukia (short black hair), Kyouya as Ishida (rectangular glasses), Renge as Orihime, Honey as Yachiru, Mori as Kenpachi, the twins as Asano Keigo & Kojima Mizuiro, who don't do any fighting at all and are minor characters. Also, Kyouya's frenetic typing is him siphoning off the Club funds to another account. Out of Tamaki's reach.

Oh, and I don't think Bleach is copyrighted with the TM logo, but just to make a point that it's not mine...


	37. CU: Silence 8

Telling Silence

It's the silences that tell her about him, now that she has learned how to read what is unsaid.

Like the control that is revealed in the quiet click when he closes the laptop: either pausing his work for that of the Host Club, or finished just in time to participate with the others.

Or the satisfaction that drifts through the air as the folder closes in a _shushing _sound between one long-fingered, capable hand.

His silence speaks its own language: disapproval, annoyance, interest or amusement when the Host Club undertakes one of its schemes.

The tilt of the head that says he's paying attention; the glint closes out the world: defense and offense, both.

It's the times when he doesn't speak that reveal who he is behind the character he has set up.

Ambitious, ruthless, insistent, complex, thoughtful, competitive, vindictive, compassionate, burdened, graceful, strong...

Haruhi is grateful for the silences, because they give her insight that few others have about him, and tell her of a secret she never dreamed of looking for.


	38. CU: Safeguard 79

Clerical Error

Kyouya was typing in the day's tallies and backlogging the useful information their customers let drop as they gossiped, when he glanced at a different record, only to realize that Haruhi had 128 designations left before she completely worked off her debt.

His mind stumbled over this information as his fingers continued to input data, and he wondered when the special academic student would next slip up and increase her debt.

" Kyou-_ya_! Pull your attention away from accounts for a minute, and listen to this!" Tamaki cheerfully greeted him, voice annoyingly singing his name. The man in question, however, had no time to roll his eyes before Tamaki was barreling on, as usual.

"Can't you see there are beautiful ladies just waiting to spend time with you?" he asked, pouting. "Even Haruhi is doing her job, see? Isn't she doing a good job, Hikaru? Hey, Haruhi! I'm sure you'll be debt-free in no time!" he assured the small Host member, and then went bouncing off to talk to his devoted fans.

Kyouya's fingers paused over the keyboard, and his eyes left the screen to look impassively after the Host Club King. Kyouya reminded himself that the Suou heir was an idiot, and would, with no intention whatsoever, ruin all of his plans.

Normally, the Host Club members could care less about where Haruhi was in her eternal debt.

Now, however, they were all looking at him, interested in the answer.

"Five hundred and two," he heard himself say, and his eyes fell back to the screen; the typing resumed.

"Way to go, Haruhi!" Tamaki cried, twirling her around in a congratulatory circle. "You're almost half-way there."

The typing stopped again, but this time no one noticed.

A tick began in Kyouya's forehead. Surely he wasn't _that _stupid. Surely…

At Tamaki's continuing laughter, however, the youth decided that yes, his friend _was _that stupid.

He weighed the wisdom of telling Tamaki that the end of Haruhi's debt would mean the end of her membership, but decided instantly that it was too straightforward of a plan. The others would get suspicious.

No, it was better to have lied, giving him the time to erase his previous records. He would just have to keep an eye on the numbers, tweaking it every so often that her debt wouldn't disappear. No one else would think to keep track or dare to question his word. There were only two and half years left before he and Tamaki graduated, after all.

And what use was blackmail, if you didn't abuse it a little?


	39. Married: Accident 42

Miscalculation

It had been a mistake; one of his few, but, oh, what a mistake.

Grabbing her arm should have been warning enough; she had been frighteningly skinny – but that had been the reason they were all upset with her, in the first place.

But he'd ignored the silent warnings in his head, already having formed his own plan for the evening when she'd burst in, sick.

So it was only when he'd had her trapped there, on the bed, that he had finally realized the danger that had never really been real - to him.

The fact that she saw through the part of him that calculated 'merit, no-merit' was amusing, certainly; he infinitely preferred her to see that, rather than the sudden fear in his chest at the knowledge that she was as dangerous as a tasteless poison in his food.

Sure, he had seen through the baggy clothes and terrible hair that first day and recognized what she was, but it wasn't until those tiny wrists were in his hands, her body so much smaller and frailer than his, that he _saw, _with utter clarity, what she _was. _

It was all he could do not to bolt right out of the room, to shake for a moment with a strange terror and never look into her eyes again.

* * *

She had been purely female, as well as the perfect temptation, precisely because Haruhi couldn't been tempted by him, no matter the bargaining tool or price.

So he let Tamaki deal with her, feeling a trembling relief as he walked down the hall, away from those too-big eyes that could (and would) probably see through more if he wasn't careful.

* * *

A few years later, he finds a reason to confront that nameless terror.

And her eyes can still see straight through him.


	40. Married: Stash 90

Treasure

Kyouya has a safe box.

He keeps it hidden behind a section of removable tile in his bathroom: it's the least likely place he can think a burglar would look, should one ever have the nerve to break into the Ootori home. But even beyond the security of a good hiding place, the safe is not your average lock box.

The key is digital, and emits a high wave frequency that resonates with the locking mechanism. Without the combination of key, digital code and frequency, the lock will melt anything else inserted into it. Kyouya knows that this much technology is overkill, especially considering the not-so-important contents.

Most of the things are only important to him, and pretty much useless to anyone else. But there's not too much that Kyouya truly values, so what he does must be kept safe. For inside the steel box rests:

-his birth certificate (the real one; he placed an identical copy in his father's files where he'd first found the original)

-his first hacking program, written when he was nine, saved on a beat-up hard drive

-a family photo from when his mother had still been alive

-an atrocious tie (orange) that Fuyumi had given him years ago (that he'd never worn)

-his brothers' business cards (soon they would be obsolete)

-an envelope filled with pictures, his address printed sloppily on the outside by a bold, masculine hand

-a framed picture of the Host Club during the Edo period cosplay

-a few notes of gratitude from various hostesses who he had sent valuable gifts to in the last year

-a dark lock of hair he'd stolen off Tamaki

-an extra pair of glasses (his prescription)

-an unused cell phone full of essential contacts

-an extra cell phone battery

-a used pair of wide-rimmed glasses (not his prescription)

-a pamphlet for Tokyo Law School

-a packet of various currencies for emergencies

-a fake id

And finally, a carefully flattened box of commoner snacks.

Today he unlocks it to add a small, velvet black box to the back corner. Absent-mindedly he picks up one pair of the glasses and fingers the large rims. He really should return them; she's starting classes at the university next week, and although her hair has grown back to a scruffy state during the months she's spent studying for the entrance examination, it might not be enough to disguise her from discerning eyes.

He pulls out the envelope of pictures he's saved all through high school; carefully rationed for use as motivation to force Tamaki and the twins to fall in line with his plans when they weren't in the mood. Now that they've all graduated, he'll have to send them back. A less dedicated father wouldn't remember a three-year old promise, but Fujioka isn't any father. He'll just have to ask Kaoru for copies of their latest impromptu modeling shoot.

Kyouya slips the glasses and envelope into his pocket and shuts the box, pushing it back into the space behind the tiles. It's going to be a while before he will need to open the box again.

But he can afford to be patient. Because some of his most precious things can't be kept in a box.


	41. Married: Polish 61

Routine

He gets home at 11:45 p.m., and dismisses the servants as they approach to help him. When the last has left and the doors are all locked, he goes into his study and turns on his computer. The muted glow from the screen reflects a face slowly losing its rigid control; he is tired - beyond tired - with no end in sight.

After all, _he_ is the one who had accepted his father's challenge; _he_ is the one who'd aimed to beat out his brothers.

And when he had graduated, he had purposely put distance between himself and the younger Host Club members. Now he wondered if that strategy had been best. She didn't seem to miss him, not that it was too surprising. Haruhi was an extremely self-sufficient girl. He had _planned_ for her reticence.

But he hadn't planned on his own loneliness, which overtook his more rational feelings at the oddest of times.

He even missed Tamaki, who had forced such extremes of feelings out of him in their earliest years of friendship that he'd often wanted to dump the blonde's body in some valley and never look back. But right now the Suou heir was struggling to win at his own chosen path in life, and had little time to spare for causing mischief. So Kyouya was left with the realization that unless he found the motivation to act soon, he would miss his chance.

He paused his work, which hadn't really been holding his attention since he had sat down, and felt under the desk for a secret compartment. Perhaps it was paranoia of the worst kind, but he didn't want anyone, servant, friend or family, to find what he had hidden. The small compartment popped out under his fingers, and he removed the small box. The jeweler had included the cloth on request, a week after he had ordered the item. He had needed some kind of routine, or else he might forget what the coming months and years could hold.

The ring sparkled like new, yet he still spent long minutes shining each surface, counting the facets as he remembered all the reasons for his purpose now. It was ten months today that she had been a student at Toudai Law School, and there were several years left before she would be fully certified. Soon he would need to reinstate himself into her life, so that the declaration that had already waited two years wouldn't come as a complete shock later on.

After all, Kyouya did not make plans lightly or based on impulse, and his plans never failed.


	42. Married: Pack 21

Pack Dynamics

It's when he's late (for the first and probably last time) that Haruhi gets a chance to talk with Tachibana-san, Aijima-san, and Hotta-san. Or rather, they with her.

"Miss Fujioka, if you'd like to wait in the car?" Tachibana suggests, managing to guide her towards the vehicle without even touching her.

Haruhi glances at the others who have helped to box her in, just a little surprised.

"Ah, it's okay," she assured them. "I can wait out here."

'Here' being the wide plaza of the Ootori's west branch hospital, lined with trees and strange sculpture.

As little interest as she holds in high-brow art, Haruhi has left all her work at the office today in the interests of facilitating peace. Had she known she'd have a bit of free time, she would have brought her usual briefcase of files.

Aijima-san coughed, and looked away.

"Kyouya-sama would probably prefer to know that you were not disturbed while waiting."

Haruhi blinked, and looked at them all, gauging their bland expressions.

"…Okay…" she replied, understanding enough to know that she didn't understand their actions, but followed them to the car nevertheless.

When Kyouya shows up three minutes later, Haruhi doesn't miss the way Tachibana-sama meets his employer's eyes, or the way Kyouya nods briefly in response.

However, she doesn't bring it up until they were alone at dinner.

"You're being a little overcautious," she comments, and he looks at her, taking a moment to place what she could be talking about.

"Tachibana-san and the others this afternoon. The little protective display," she explains, just to clarify, and he frowns at her.

"They're not stupid," he objects in his scarily reasonable way. "If they don't want to lose their jobs, they'll protect what's important to me."

It's a roundabout way of expressing his feelings for her, but it's still enough to flush her face. She hadn't realized there _was _a protective mantel to fall under, or even that she would qualify as someone who came under that shield.

"I don't have to issue commands to them in this situation," he adds, and she sighs, part resignation, and part exasperated amusement.

"I suppose I'll thank them, then," she replies, and starts in on her dessert.

Kyouya allows a quick, hidden smile at her bent head, amused at her reaction, as usual, and bemused by how quickly his men have taken to her.


	43. Married: Emerge 80

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

"Are you planning on introducing your friend to the family any time soon, Kyouya?" his father asked one cold morning in February, and Kyouya paused in bringing a piece of toast to his mouth.

He glanced at the older Ootori, took a bite of the toast, and chewed thoughtfully. Then turned his attention to the centerpiece with unusual interest.

"Eventually," he replied, and ignored the stare his father was leveling on him.

"If you're too ashamed to bring her before me…" his father began, and let his son fill in the implications.

Kyouya was riled, even as he knew the _real_ reason he hadn't introduced Haruhi to his father.

It had been hard enough to convince the woman to begin seeing him as something more than a friend, but considering how she regarded the lifestyle and habits of the wealthy, he was not eager to reveal his own dirty laundry (washed by the help), so to speak.

_She would probably take one look around and head right back out the door_, he thought, wondering why he had even attempted it in the first place.

It was either keep his father upset, or lose the one woman he could respect.

"You have a week," Yoshio stated, and left the table.

In the silence, Kyouya sighed, and leaned his head back against the chair.

_Damn._

* * *

Haruhi was immersed in the menu when he arrived

He lifted her left hand from the table and kissed it before settling across from her.

She blinked at him, and glanced at her hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked, and he flinched in the middle of lifting a glass of wine.

_Didn't spill any,_ he noted in detached approval.

"What are you ta-," he began, but met her eyes and saw how pointless it would be trying to side-track her. Instead, he cleared his throat.

"How would you like to come to dinner?" he asked, and when her brows rose, as though to ask '_what are we doing now?_' he clarified softly, "At my home."

* * *

Every hair was in place, and he was about as casual as his wardrobe could go: gray slacks and a light-weight sweater. Some new ploy the twins were trying out for their clothing line – 'Color Your Emotions' – had pushed him to blue - supposedly a calming color.

He would have to tell the twins their theory was stupid and impractical.

Kyouya almost would have preferred if Fuyumi was still around, bugging him and even teasing him. Anything but the silent wait with his father.

* * *

"Hello," she said, greeting them both and smiling easily as Yoshio took her hand in a firm handshake.

"Fujioka-san, how are you?" he asked, and she responded with everything that was right and proper.

At least, Kyouya assumed this was the case, as his father was still smiling amiably, and Haruhi looked at ease… there was a loud roaring filling his ears, for some reason.

"How is Ootori-san's project doing?" she asked, snapping Kyouya back to the present.

He stared incredulously as his father laughed, and _patted her hand._

"Oh, flourishing, of course. Anything my wife sets her mind to she'll succeed at," he said, and, in Kyouya's hearing, continued, "I think he gets it from her, don't you agree?"

Training and practice was all that kept Kyouya upright at seeing his _father_ tease someone.

And had he just heard a compliment in there? About him?

_To Haruhi_.

And then he frowned. How did Haruhi know about Mother's pet project?

"I'm sure dinner is ready by now," his father was saying, looking for all the world ready to lead Haruhi in to the dining room.

Kyouya cast about for something to separate them.

"Could you point me to the washroom, first?" Haruhi asked. "I need to clean up a bit."

He leapt at the chance.

"I'll show you. We'll meet you in the dining room, Father," he said, hustling the small woman out the door.

She gave him a strange look when he closed the washroom's door behind them, but lathered her hands with soap anyways.

"You still look upset," she observed, and Kyouya held in a hysterical laugh.

"When and where did you ever meet my mother?" he asked, and she looked surprised.

"A few years ago, I guess," she answered, pulling a towel from the basket to wipe her hands dry. "Fuyumi-san was trying to get her help in that jewelry venture she was starting up, but then your mother suggested that a food drive might be more beneficial, and when they needed help setting up the legal side of the business, Tamaki referred them to me."

Kyouya sighed, trying not to show how exasperated he felt.

"You _already_ know my parents," he concluded, and covered his eyes with one hand.

"Yes," she agreed, regarding him with concern mixed with confusion.

"And you never mentioned it, because?" he asked, wondering how his father had managed to win this round so soundly.

"You never asked," she replied logically, and tugged him from the room. "Come on, we're going to hold everyone up." She looked up at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. "So… what's for dinner?"


	44. Married: Court 26

More Than Duty

"This court awards Nishiyama-san full custody rights, as well as requiring a monthly payment of ¥25,000 a month from Nakamura-san. If there are any other objections to be made, they can be filed with your lawyers and addressed in a second hearing."

The judge glanced across the courtroom, taking in the young woman who looked to be in a state of shock, two small boys sitting in the row behind her, as well as the man still scowling at the table in front of him.

"No objections, I see. Very well, court is dismissed. Thank you for your time, jury. If Fujioka-san and Sasaki-san would come forward…"

Haruhi approached the bench with a small smile on her face; it was impossible to keep from showing her relief that the ruling had gone in her client's favor. Sasaki-san gave her a wry grin.

"Good job, Fujioka-san," he congratulated her, and she shook his hand, smiling genuinely at him.

"I realize that Nishiyama's victory comes at the price of your client's defeat, Sasaki-san, but I have to say that I'm grateful on her behalf."

Sasaki grinned at the younger lawyer, free to say what he liked now that the case was finished. "I must admit that I'm glad too, though you can keep that to yourself."

The judge, Ishikawa-san, looked faintly amused.

"I'm glad as well," he rumbled, reaching down to shake both of their hands. "Fighting over the well-being of children is always hardest on the children. I would prefer to hope that those who leave my court have been dealt with justly."

Haruhi nodded, and thanked him for his efforts. Within moments she collected her things and exited the room, unsurprised to find Nishiyama-san waiting for her, along with the two boys.

"Fujioka-san, I can't tell you how grateful I am," she said, giving the smaller woman a crushing hug. "I never dreamed we would receive such a generous allotment; I was half-afraid I was going to lose the boys, when we started."

Haruhi smiled down at the boys, Hiko and Hitoshi. They shyly approached and hugged her too, before retreating back to their grandmother's waiting figure.

"You should go and get lunch," she advised them gently. "You've all been here since 10 o'clock, and it's just now 1 o'clock."

With a few more phrases of gratitude, they took her advice and left, allowing Haruhi to head towards her own office; she would have to order in some food for herself, for there wasn't time to stop and eat before her afternoon appointment arrived.

* * *

By the time she reached her floor, the eighth of one of the larger downtown buildings, she was exhausted and wondering how she would get the rest of her paperwork done today.

She noticed that the secretary for the firm was out, and sighed, a little annoyed to realize she would have to place her lunch order herself.

_I'm getting lazy_, she thought, sparing a brief but resentful thought towards the rich boys who had made being spoiled look so easy.

Haruhi opened the door to her private office gratefully, not bothering to turn the main light on; she would likely have a headache soon. The lamp on her desk was enough to see by, and she set her things down with less precision than usual. A moment later she sank into the huge leather armchair behind her desk, and closed her eyes in relief.

She twitched when hands descended on her shoulders, but then smiled as he spoke near her ear.

"Aren't you glad I insisted on _this _chair?" he asked, sounding smug.

Her smile widened. "Actually, I'm glad that you went through that medical training, rather than taking the easy way out and just getting a business degree."

"Oh?"

"You wouldn't know how to work all the knots out of my back, otherwise," she replied.

He laughed softly, and removed his hands a minute later, causing a small frown to cross her face. It quickly fled though; she never took his attention or time for granted.

"I thought you… allied yourself with me for a different reason," he said, sounding surprisingly light-hearted, considering his words.

She turned her chair around to see him digging through a familiar bag.

"Kyouya…" she trailed off as he pulled a small container free, looking pleased with himself.

Haruhi couldn't help smiling in return, trying not to snatch it out of his hand lest she look desperate.

"How did you know I'd need this?" she asked, sincerely curious as she broke the chopsticks and dug into the ootoro and fried rice. Kyouya moved to sit in one of the chairs facing her desk.

"You forget how that line appears between your eyes when you're upset about a case," he reminded her gently, knowing that she had to be stressed if she had forgotten his particular observation skills. "And that line has been present for the past three days."

She paused in her eating to smile warmly at him, eyes sparkling with unusual gratitude, and Kyouya flushed.

"I'll have a break now, at least for a few days. There aren't any cases in court that I need to prepare for until next week; just some paperwork for civil suits."

"Good," he responded, leaning back in his chair. "Then you can make Father's business party on Monday."

Haruhi glanced up at him, but didn't pause this time, indicating with one raised eyebrow that he should continue to explain.

"There's bound to be ootoro there, too," he said, teasing her gently, and she rolled her eyes. "Father is trying to garner support to help Fuyumi-neesan start her clothing business."

"The one where clothes are recycled?" she asked, and he nodded, looking pleased that she had remembered.

"She asked me a while back if I would have time to help out, but I told her that the twins would know more about the clothes business than me."

He gave a small smile, but she saw it and questioned it with one glance.

"I think Fuyumi-neesan just wants your opinion, instead of a male's," he explained.

Haruhi set down the container, already finished, and stood up to make them some tea.

"Actually, I think she just wants to spend time at our house. She's always coming up with excuses to head over – not that I mind," she quickly assured him. "I think she misses you at the main house."

"Like your father misses you?" he asked dryly, and she shook her head in exasperation.

"We're never going to have privacy," she predicted, thinking of all their other weekly visitors.

"Why else would I show up here so often?" he asked, smiling again when she turned to look at him.

"Is that why you're here? I thought it might have something to do with two months…" she set down his tea cup, and sipped at her own.

"That might also have… influenced me," he admitted, and reached over to tap the gold ring on her fourth finger lightly.

"Two months," he echoed softly.

* * *

A/N: I have no idea how the justice system works in Japan, so I've stuck with the American one (which is still iffy, since I've never had to serve for jury duty). Hopefully the inconsistencies don't ruin the reading experience. Haruhi and Kyouya _would_ have to pick careers that I know nothing about…


	45. Married: Commit 60

Commitment

He could be fastidiously clean with areas he considered his, and Haruhi knew it. Any place he used regularly received his attention - and among those places were his wife's office. By now it was habit to clean up the cluttered office when he came by, waiting for her return from court.

Technically, Kyouya was supposed to be at the hospital today, distributing holiday bonuses; the hospital's revenue was up 13% since last year, and it was only fair to give the workers their part in it. As usual, though, he had been ahead of schedule, and sent them out yesterday in order to pay a surprise visit to his wife for lunch.

Now he was wondering if all the forethought had been for nothing; if all these efforts to see her had actually been in vain. Maybe he had failed at this relationship weeks ago, _months_ ago.

Perhaps she couldn't see through his cold, impersonal mask, after all. His world tilted precariously.

His heart, small organ that it was (after all, he _was _an Ootori), felt weak and tight.

Kyouya Ootori held in his hand one of his wife's files: papers for divorce, filed for one Haruhi Ootori.

He fumbled for a chair and sank into it, grateful at least for privacy in which to fall apart. He pulled his glasses off, tossing them carelessly onto the desk as he brought the papers closer to inspect.

All of her most recent information was filled out neatly in the lines. He felt a chill race down his back.

It just needed his signature to be complete.

Feeling strangely detached, he wondered if it would be presumptuous of him to sign now, and hand it over with his usual nonchalance, hiding the enormous hole she had blown in his chest.

As he contemplated the pens on her desk, the door opened behind him, and the clean scent of roses drifted in.

Another pain hit him as the scent registered; it was the smell of that silly perfume Tamaki had insisted on buying her for her last birthday.

She had wryly told him later that she had grown fond of the flowers, because they reminded her of the years in the Host Club.

He wondered if Tamaki knew she actually wore it.

"Kyouya? What are you doing here so early?" she asked, walking around him at her usual brisk pace, and setting her briefcase down by the desk with a sigh.

When he didn't respond, she went on.

"The proceedings are taking a lot longer than I expected for a simple property suit," she commented as she rifled through the papers on her desk.

"Hmm?" she paused in her searching, looking confused. "Kyouya?" she glanced up at him, taking in for the first time his expression, and his slumped posture in the chair.

Haruhi almost tripped over her own feet as she rushed around to him, eyes suddenly worried.

"Is everything all right? You look terrible. Did something happen at the hospital?"

Mutely, he held out the sheaf of papers to her, feeling a bit more removed from the situation than before, while being, at the same time, highly aware of her every breath, her every movement.

She looked with surprise at the papers, and frowned briefly at them, as though irritated.

"I was just looking for this a few hours ago, I needed to…" she trailed off, eyes suddenly lighting up as though in realization.

"Oh. Oh dear," she looked both horrified and embarrassed. "Kyouya, uh, you didn't happen to… _read_ this, did you?" she asked, though it was obvious by then that he had.

"I'm such an idiot," she muttered, and then looked panicked as he slumped further, eyes pained.

"No, no, wrong! What I mean is, I shouldn't have put _my_ name on this thing. That is, I should have put Jane Smith, or something," she rushed out, grabbing his hand. "Kyouya, I'm _not_ filing for divorce."

It was too soon to feel relief. Still, he sat up a bit.

"You're not."

Haruhi shook her head, looking quite frantic. "No, _of course_ not. I would never… well, theoretically if I was, I would _talk_ to you first," she inserted, always practical, "but I'm not planning on it… Kyouya? Are you all right?"

It was the worried tone that brought hope spinning back, and he met her eyes with tentative relief.

"Why is all of your information on it, then?" he asked, not quite ready to trust her yet. The world had yet to balance for him.

She moved to sit across from him to explain, but kept a hold of his hand. "There's a client of mine who's trying to file for divorce, one of the worse cases of abuse I've had since joining the firm, but she's never dealt with legalities or litigation before. I thought it would help her to have an example of how to fill the forms out, but since I didn't have any samples on hand, I just, well… filled it out myself."

It was a relief to breathe again, Kyouya found, and tried to convince his muscles that they could relax too. Somewhere in her explanation, he had become unbearably tense… and his wife was still talking.

"I really _am_ sorry, Kyouya. I never dreamed you would see this, or begin to think they were for… us. I just thought it would be fine to put my name on it, since I assumed I would never actually fill something like this out. Presumptuous of me, I guess."

It was the only thing he had needed to hear, and suddenly his faith was back ten-fold, bringing a foreign rush of gratitude.

"Good," he said, voice firm and final, and Haruhi stopped, blinking at him in bewilderment.

"Okay…" she agreed, leaning back as though to pull away, out of his personal space.

Instead, he reached forward and pulled her to her feet, all but shoving her out the office door before himself.

"Kyouya?" she asked, now completely baffled as to his behavior.

"We're going home," he told her, still maneuvering her down the hallway. "The secretary can tell your clients to come back in the morning."

Bemused, she did as he had said, and let him drag her downstairs to the family car.

Haruhi gave him another questioning glance as they slid inside, and as soon as the door was shut, she was pulled forcefully into his lap, only to have all the breath squeezed out of her.

Several minutes later she was ready to do whatever he said, dazed from the overwhelming attentions of a husband who was usually circumspect.

"And that was for…?" she asked, hoping that an explanation would stop him long enough for them to make it upstairs. For the first time since her honeymoon, she was grateful that Kyouya had insisted on a house, rather than an apartment. The neighbors would have been scandalized by his behavior, and her appearance.

"That was for marrying me," he explained, sounding quite ridiculous. Her lips quirked in amusement, turning into a quick laugh as he swept her out of the car and through the front door.

"And this," he whispered in her ear as he climbed up the stairs, "is for being you."


	46. Married: Relocate 66

Setting Up House

"How do you like this one?" Tanaka-san asked, one hand indicating the spacious living room that adjoined the formal dining room, and Haruhi looked to Kyouya, who looked back at her.

"Well?" he asked, sounding patient to those who didn't know him, but to Haruhi, not really patient at all. For a man and a woman who usually knew exactly what they wanted and didn't hesitate to go after their goals, finding a house for themselves was becoming an increasingly frustrating search.

"I don't know," she admitted, seeming both distracted and guilty about it all at once. Kyouya sighed and rubbed at his temple, letting the realtor sweat.

"We can always move again," he suggested with what amounted to fortitude in his case, and she shrugged. Kyouya instinctively knew she wasn't trying to make this difficult, but the headache that pounded at his brow still made him cranky.

"Fine," he said, obviously reigning in his temper. "This is the most promising one you've shown us all week, Tanaka-san. We'll take this one."

"Is that house for sale?" Haruhi asked, interrupting Tanaka-san's relieved response. They both turned to see Haruhi pointing out the front window to a house _much_ smaller than any they had previously looked at.

"Um… yes," their realtor answered, shooting a confused and slightly panicked look Kyouya's way. Haruhi looked to him in mute appeal, and even as Kyouya sighed, he knew they would be walking inside soon – it was the first time she had asked about _any_ house.

* * *

"Have you taken into account how often Tamaki and the others are going to be visiting?" he inquired, and she nodded, not missing his criticism of her choice.

"We all fit into my father's apartment," she retorted gently. "I'm sure there will be enough room here for everyone." She walked down a few steps into the main living room, and he was forced to agree. There would be enough room, even with Honey bouncing around and the twins getting into who-knew-what-mischief.

It was still smaller than Kyouya had pictured and, he guessed, smaller than his father would have expected, but the sudden reminder of the world Haruhi had grown up in, made him reflect that the house did seem extravagant - in comparison. At least ten, maybe more, of Haruhi's old apartment could fit within these walls.

"You're sure?" he asked, though it was redundant – he knew by the look in her eyes.

She took his hand absently as they left the front yard, and he realized he was going to be fine with her choice, after all. Even an Ootori could compromise when he wanted to – if the price was right.


	47. Married: Forbid 74

Favorite Things

"What are you doing?" Kyouya asks, the morning newspaper clutched in his left hand.

Haruhi glances up at him, and then turns her attention back to the sheet in front of her.

"Just trying something out," she says, but her voice holds a surprising tinge of embarrassment. Kyouya can't ignore her after that. The newspaper that had captured his attention before is set on the table, forgotten as he leans over his wife's shoulder to see what she is about.

There are characters all over the once blank sheet, written and altered…

With a disbelieving huff, he sits back in his own chair and gives her an incredulous look.

But Haruhi misses this extreme change in expression, blushing hotly at having been caught.

"I'm beginning to think your reasons for accepting my proposal are quite different from what you told me at the time," he comments after a minute.

Her head jerks up at that, and she blinks in surprise - until she notices the teasing glint in his eyes. She frowns at him.

"I didn't lie," she objects.

He raises one careful brow in question.

She presses her lips together, not at all happy at having to explain something which, given a choice, her husband would never have known about.

"You have _your_ hobbies," she explains, with perhaps more asperity than the situation warrants. However, this is the first time that Haruhi is embarrassed purely because of her own actions - and also for letting her thoughts wander while Kyouya is still in the room.

"Still, anata," he says, raising his newspaper back up to obstruct the glare that was sure to follow his words. "At least I stay on the plane of reality." There is a distinct pause that she knows he is using to emphasize his point. "Because Ootori _cannot _be changed to ootoro, no matter how hard you try."

_Cannot meaning, 'do not_,' she thought to herself, but gave it up, anyways.

* * *

A/N: Kyouya discovers that his wife's first love has not disappeared with their marriage.

I'm sure someone else has noticed how similar Kyouya's family name is to Haruhi's favorite food, but I've never seen a fic about it. So of course, I had to write it…


	48. Married: Nocturnal 87

Night Owls (& Early Birds)

Tamaki had mentioned it off-hand, as though it was an occasional habit.

Kyouya himself had admitted that he sometimes stayed up to finish projects.

Haruhi remembered the twins' warnings about the 'Demon King,' but had thought that six years out of high school translated to different habits. After all, work and school were very different stages of life.

A day after their return from Hawaii, Haruhi gratefully went to sleep at nine, tired from the travel and hoping to adjust back to the right time zone. She dreamed that she was walking up a flight of stairs that never seemed to end. She looked around, wondering what was wrong. An unnatural light seemed to be coming from an open door on her left.

With a start, she woke up, completely disoriented. After tossing off the sheets, she made out a glowing face above her. "Kyouya?"

The typing stopped (so _that's_ what it had been, she thought) and felt his eyes on her.

"What're you doing?" she asked, squinting in his direction. He leaned over, out of the direct glare of the computer screen, so that she could see his face in shadow.

"I'm working on a program for Dogotsu-san," he said in a rational tone of voice. "Did I disturb you?"

Haruhi carefully sifted through her first responses to this. After all, marriage was about compromise, about understanding one another. "If you don't move to another room in five minutes, I'll break your laptop," she told him calmly – or what she felt should be called admirable calm, considering her interrupted REM sleep.

There was a long moment while Kyouya weighed her words, and how likely she was to follow through on her threat.

"_Kyouya_."

He was gone in the next twenty seconds. Haruhi rolled over in the empty bed and pulled the covers over her head. When she woke up at 6 a.m., she found Kyouya asleep on his stomach beside her. She considered waking him, but then remembered what time she had seen on the face of the clock as she turned over last night.

Married or not, his employees could deal with waking the Demon Lord. She slipped from bed and got ready for work. He hadn't stirred by the time she left.

When this pattern continued for the rest of the week, Haruhi went to the housekeeper, and discussed the problem with her. The next day she bought a battery operated alarm clock on her way home from work.

The cursing started around 1 a.m. Around, because that was when Haruhi was woken by it.

"What's wrong?" she asked, not bothering to open her eyes.

"The power's gone out. I'll have to go find the electric company's number."

Haruhi grunted and waited for his disgruntled mumbling to fade into the distance. Then she smiled and went back to sleep. He twitched the next morning at the sound of the new alarm, but didn't wake. She ignored his prone body and left for work. The next night his cursing was louder, and earlier by half an hour. She didn't ask, but he seemed to realize he had woken her.

"It's happened again," he muttered angrily, and left. This time she was asleep again in seconds.

He glared with real malice at her alarm the next morning, but rolled over when she turned it off and patted his shoulder apologetically. Kyouya wasn't around when Haruhi went to bed that night, but she didn't worry about it. This time, when she woke in the dark she was confused. No cursing, no glow; what had woken her?

A tense presence on her left caught her attention.

"Kyouya?"

"Haruhi." His quick response did not bode well. "Can you tell me why we seem to have no power during the hours of 10 p.m. and 6 a.m.? _Every_ night?"

Haruhi tried not to let the sudden tension in her body show in her voice.

"We're trying to save on the electricity bill," she explained in her most sensible voice - tempered slightly by a yawn. Even in the dark she could tell he was furious.

"Who. DO. _You_ -"

"You're going to make mistakes working all hours like that," she interrupted. "And your clients can't possibly be happy with having to travel home after evening meetings. Most people want to be home for dinner. With their _families_."

She let her tone turn accusatory, and then turned her back on him. It took at least five minutes, but she finally felt him moving to lie down. She wasn't bold or arrogant enough to smile in victory, but she was relieved. It could have gone much worse.

When her alarm went off the next morning, she stretched an arm out and slapped it off with a groan. She needed to find a new one, with a less grating ring. Movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye; Kyouya was facing her, scowl firmly in place. She fought back a laugh at the slight bags under his eyes, and scooted over to him, propping herself up with an arm to examine his face. It would only take a few days of regular sleep to eliminate the bags and bloodshot eyes.

"Good morning," she said, and finally did smile.

"I doubt you -"

She bent down quickly to shut him up in the most effective way possible, already having expected a lecture or argument. It was to her advantage that he was so weak in the mornings. Get past the anger and low blood pressure, and the truth was that he was vulnerable… to certain types of attacks.

Kyouya tried to say something else; likely a protest, but she hadn't set her alarm half an hour earlier than usual to argue. Soon enough, his words were unintelligible.

By the time she finally climbed from bed, she had defended her stance most convincingly.

And when she crawled beneath the covers that night, exhausted by a long day in court, Kyouya followed her there less than ten minutes later. She smiled; he glared. But when he turned off his lamp, the laptop was nowhere in sight.


	49. Married: Flu 25

Distractions

Haruhi is remembering with nostalgia the time when Tamaki was sick.

As it was happening, she hadn't harbored any fond feelings regarding the incident (other than mortification at the kiss on the cheek), but now, staring into livid, fevered gray eyes, she almost wishes she could redo that bit of history.

Almost.

"I have to finish the program for Douga-san!" his scratchy voice insists. When he rises up on one elbow, Haruhi places her palm flat on the middle of his chest and pushes, winning only because his balance is so distorted by nausea.

He tries to fend her off, but Haruhi ignores this, paying more attention to the lunch tray on the bedside table, grateful she has set it there, rather than on his lap.

It would have made a spectacular mess, in addition to all kinds of clean up that they're both too tired for.

Scowling at being unable to get up, Kyouya reaches under the mounds of pillows Fuyumi has set up behind him.

Haruhi gives a satisfied smirk while his back is turned, though she knows it won't last.

When he goes still, she doesn't imagine he has fallen asleep; instead she composes her face into blank ignorance.

A furious face turns her way.

"Where. Is. _My_. COMPUTER!"

The door cracks open at the end of his roar; Fuyumi-neesan is smiling.

"Kyouya, your visitors are here!"

Haruhi breathes a silent sigh of relief, and slips out of the room between Tamaki's offerings of commoner's remedies and Honey's list of newly discovered cake flavors.

Haruhi hates using money for frivolous reasons, but has decided: next time, she's hiring a nurse to attend him.


	50. Married: Bathroom 2

Test

Kyouya stood outside the locked door, feeling strangely self-conscious and awkward. One of the maids passed by, trying not to look as curious as she felt; Kyouya scowled, and she scurried away, eyes wide. Waiting until she turned the corner, he checked the other end of the hallway, then knocked urgently on the door.

"Are you done?" he whispered.

"What?" she asked from the other side.

"Are you _done?_ Finished? How long does it take, for the love of -" He cut himself off as the housekeeper approached, a perplexed wrinkle between her eyes.

"Kyouya-sama, if you have need of the facilities, there is another just downstairs," she began.

"That's quite all right, Tsubane-san. Thank you for your trouble," he quickly bit out. Her brows rose, but she took him at his word. After all, what else could she do? He was already an adult, and to question him further would imply a lack of respect.

"Who was that?" Her voice was muffled through the door, but clear enough to understand.

"Just the housekeeper. How long are you planning on staying in there? If I'd known you were going to try and humiliate me as some kind of revenge, I would have taken you to the doctor."

Her voice was patient on the other side of the door; too patient.

"You can't rush these things. And I can't imagine how you could be embarrassed by your own servants. After all, they used to wipe up your drool and change your -"

"Yes, okay, I see your point," he quickly interceded, not even wanting to think about his childhood at the moment.

"Besides, I don't think the first one worked, so I'm waiting on the second one."

"We should have gone to the hospital," Kyouya muttered to himself, dragging an impatient hand through his hair. He jerked upright at the sound of the toilet flushing.

"Haruhi?"

The faucet turned on, and he actually contemplated trying to kick down the door.

"Haruhi!"

The door swung open, and she gave him a strange look.

"Calm down, would you? No wonder the servants have been passing by; you're acting a little oddly."

He glared at her.

"And? I've just endured four servants gaining the impression that I've lost my mind; the least you could do is tell me."

She bit her lips, an unusually hesitant gesture from her, and handed him the small stick. He stared at it, trying not to think about germ theory.

"I know I work at a hospital, Haruhi, but I hope you're not expecting me to know what a _color_ means."

She rolled her eyes.

"It's positive, _that's_ what it means. I'm pregnant."

The little test fell from Kyouya's nerveless fingers. Never mind that they had been almost certain; hearing confirmation was different.

"It's too early," he heard someone say. "We were going to wait another two, three years. At the least. There're things that need to be done."

Haruhi scowled at him, and he realized belatedly that _he'd _been the one speaking.

"I mean, I was trying to say... _dear_ _god_. Does Ryoji know what to do with a baby?"

Haruhi tried to a swallow sudden and inappropriate laugh; she still needed to voice her displeasure with the way he'd been recently acting. But she couldn't recall ever seeing him losing his composure to such an extent.

"He did raise _me_; I'm sure it will come back to him. But if you're looking for parenting advice, I think it would be better to speak to Fuyumi-neechan."

He blinked, derailed from whatever thoughts had been spinning through his mind.

"Fuyumi. Right. Then let's go."

Haruhi watched him walk away, bemused.

"Haruhi!"

She jumped slightly, then moved to follow him. Apparently, there were still things she could do that would seriously discompose and unbalance her husband. She hid her relief behind his back, and turned this newest advantage over in her mind.


	51. Married: Wild 81

A/N: This scene requires knowledge of the manga (extra characters), just to warn you anime-only fans.

Uninhibited

The only time Haruhi has seen Kyouya act with physical violence towards anyone is when she is six months pregnant, when they've gone back to Ouran for a school reunion.

As far as Haruhi is concerned, the gesture had been kindly meant, but Kyouya hadn't taken it that way; he'd been stressed already from the dual pressures of taking over three new companies, and trying to prepare for impending fatherhood (_not_ a circumstance he had ever realistically considered before it was too late for mere consideration).

So when Takeshi-san offers her a basket full of oranges, saying it would be good for the baby, she barely has a chance to take it and say 'thank you' before Kyouya has kicked the other man viciously in the stomach.

The room falls silent as Kuze lands a few feet away, breath completely knocked from his lungs.

Kanan is shaking her head in disapproval on the sidelines. "I told you…" she begins on her husband, and then Haruhi is being whisked away by Tamaki, Mori having done the honors of dragging Kyouya away from his long-time rival before a true fight can break out over perceived insults.

Hikaru is wheezing with laughter by the time they make it to a private room, and though Tamaki looks concerned, he too is barely holding back chuckles, behind the concern.

After all, though Kyouya has changed quite a bit before their high school graduation, no one but Tamaki and Haruhi have experienced the plethora of expressions that can cross Kyouya's face when his mask (or guard) is down. It's perhaps a little cruel to Takeshi-san to be thankful for his unwise gift, but Haruhi had been worried about the building pressure beneath her husband's exterior.

His smug, satisfied look now tells her exactly what she needs to know: he has expelled almost all of his stress through that one kick. Still, there is no need to ruin his reputation among the Ouran alumni; if his image became truly tarnished, the stress will only return to him ten-fold.

So Haruhi (badly) fakes some food poisoning with Kaoru's help, and is escorted home by her husband within the hour.

To no one's surprise, they avoid school-wide events the next time Haruhi is pregnant.


	52. Married: Bitter 69

Birthday

The crying echoed down the hall into their bedroom.

"Haru...hi…?"

Kyouya mumbled the one word that usually got the noise to stop.

"It's my birthday," she responded instead, and he was disconcerted enough by her alert voice that he actually rolled over and squinted at her.

"Wha?" Kyouya had _never_ claimed to be alert in the morning, especially not at 5 am.

"It's… my… _birthday_," she reminded him with distinct words, and he scrunched a brow, mentally agreeing - to the extent that he was able - that, yes, this date was indeed her birthday… and?

"You said you would give me something practical, instead of something expensive," she reminded him. It annoyed him to no end that she was awake enough to be reminding him of _that_ particular discussion.

"Haruhi," he said, in his most rational voice, "it's five o'clock in the morning."

There was enough light coming in through the windows for him to see her scowl. He groaned, for there had been few enough scowls from her in the duration of their marriage, but those few had been a learning experience. He uttered what would have been a choice expletive - if it wasn't so early. "Gaolmphersn."

"What was that?" she asked, sounding far too knowing. He glared at the far wall, wondering how long she would be angry with him if he ignored her.

"Kyouya, your son is crying," she reminded him. As though he needed _her_ to mention it; the wailing seemed to cut through every wall between here and the nursery.

"Kyouya," she began, in the patient tone of voice that was rarely used but quite potent. "I am not getting up. I took today off so I could rest _as you insisted_," she reminded him. "So did all the servants, you know. They agreed to give us a day of privacy. At Fuyumi-neesan's insistence."

He didn't respond. She pushed herself to a sitting position to stare down at him, and considered her knowledge.

"I'll still be here when you get back," she promised, in a tone of voice that shouldn't have appealled to him. He gave a deep sigh that seemed to stretch for minutes. The silence from her side of the bed didn't waver. He glared at his pillow as though it had done him a personal wrong.

Kyouya didn't often regret marrying Haruhi. But bringing down the walls between them had meant some weaknesses had eventually been revealed that Kyouya would've rather kept hidden, even from her. Just because she _knew_ his weaknesses, didn't mean she had to use them as bargaining chips.

With a growl, he finally rolled out of bed, seriously contemplating the murder of his sister - _and _his firstborn son.


	53. Married: Full 20

A Life Full of Blessings

It's New Year's, the one occasion that guarantees all the family will visit the house these days. In truth, the house is lonely with the children grown and married, and Masaki dead. But Yoshio has no intention of ever telling his sons or daughter this, and besides, today he is far from lonely.

Theirs is not a large family - yet. They are quickly on the way to it; he wishes Masaki could see them all.

He himself was an only child, which was why his wife and he had tried for the four they'd had: Yuuichi, Fuyumi, Akito, and Kyouya.

Then all the children had grown up, each to marry, each with surprising wisdom: Fuyumi to Takamaru Shido first, then Yuuichi to Eriko, Akito to Rumi, and finally Kyouya to Haruhi.

It took a while for each new family to settle into their unique part of the expanding Ootori name.

Today there is Fuyumi's Sora to sit on grandfather's lap, so that he can listen gravely as she practices her three year old vocabulary on him, as well as Yuuichi and Eriko's tiny Makito to hold when the others have had their turn. All of his children are married now, with children on the way themselves.

The family business is good, and the succession has finally been settled. Though Kyouya could easily hold it all together by himself, he has perhaps gained some wisdom with marriage, or maybe some perspective after years of striving to attain it all – for after proving that he was more capable than even his own father, he handed back the company to his oldest brother, requesting only those businesses and ventures he found particularly challenging.

The Ootori name has expanded from hospital management, equipment and resorts, to international training and therapy.

For a moment Yoshio's eyes rest on his youngest son, whose arm is set lightly around his wife's burgeoning waist. The gray eyes hidden behind glasses are calm but guarded; few are the times Yoshio has seen the boy's guard fall, and almost all occasions in the past few years are to the credit of the woman at his side.

* * *

The Ootori patriarch had never anticipated a person such as Fujioka Haruhi entering his son's carefully crafted world; never guessed it would be a _woman_ of all people, who would reveal the hidden sides of Ootori Kyouya to the light of day. By the time Kyouya had started to seriously court the girl, Yoshio thought he might favor the match.

But he had never indicated any such thing to his son, curious as to what reaction his own lack of response would create. He had underestimated the effect of Suou Tamaki in conjunction with Fujioka upon his son's ambitions.

While the third and youngest son still aimed to defeat his brothers without actually bringing them down, he had learned some of his own lessons from the Host Club. The only game more fun than the one his father had set him was the game of trying to make Fujioka Haruhi aware of her femininity (and all that included), before any other male could – which included the other Hosts.

Kyouya had finally recognized which loss would be more crippling to him, in the long run, and though his efforts towards winning the first challenge did not change, the lessening of the weight of it on his mind succeeded in bringing him a solution to both goals.

He had been married to Haruhi mere weeks before finishing up his winning move concerning the matter of who would inherit the Ootori business.

It was three months after that, when he handed the control of most of the businesses back to Yuuichi.

* * *

Yoshio is still watching the young couple when his son's shield falls for a moment; Kyouya is chuckling at something Fuyumi has said. The young woman at his side turns pink, and replies carefully.

Kyouya's expression slides from amused to smug. And now Fuyumi is laughing.

His other sons are smiling as well; they have grown to accept and then like Kyouya's chosen bride. They are, truthfully, a little in awe of her. She has changed their stoic and enigmatic little brother into a man who can smile, and occasionally laugh. Into a man who cares more for his family than his family's fortune.

In their eyes, she has done the impossible: she has changed Ootori Kyouya, by never trying to change him at all.

* * *

Within the next year they will all be mothers and fathers, uncles and aunts, building the family Masaki and he had dreamed of years and years ago. Yoshio will soon be a grandfather four times over, more used to hearing "ojiisan" than "otousan," more interested in spoiling grandchildren than buying out rivals.

Yoshio doesn't say it, and will never speak it aloud, but he is amazed - astonished - at how full his life has become.


	54. Mission: The Beginning

Prequel – _The Beginning_

Haruhi meets her cousin for the first time during her senior year of high school.

Unlike most cousins, Haruhi and Haruka have not grown up together, primarily because Ryouji had been disinherited from his family once he'd made his… preferences known when he'd been in high school.

By the time he'd met Kotoko, he'd long since established himself as a separate entity from his family, and since Kotoko only had a sickly great-uncle left herself, they had pretty much created their own family unit, adding Haruhi a few years later with plenty of joy and no sense of lack.

So it was with some surprise – though not _unpleasant_ surprise – that Haruhi became acquainted with her older cousin, and began to benefit from having a family member beyond just Ryouji to talk to.

Haruka, for her part, seemed to admire Ryouji for his guts in leaving the family behind; she appeared to admire his ability to piss off the family patriarch enough to cause them to cut him off. This reasoning became clearer the more Haruhi learned about her; Haruka was a rebel, despite her polite manners and her attendance at one of the most prestigious law schools in Tokyo. This later fact gave Haruhi even more incentive to get to know her cousin, as she was in the middle of applying to law schools herself.

Haruka was quite willing to answer her questions, and to give her information that wasn't strictly formal about the future she was planning for herself. Haruhi planned to follow Kotoko's chosen path in careers, and was keeping her grades at the top of her class in order to receive admittance and scholarships for university.

"You'll do fine," was Haruka's only comment after looking over her application, but Haruhi had learned by then how to read her cousin at least a little bit. She sighed with quiet relief and submitted it the next day.

They continued to meet for a dinner twice a month even after Haruhi began university, as the location of her chosen school put her in closer proximity to Haruka's apartment than before.

And so the weeks went by, looking much the same in essence, until an incident in Haruhi's junior year - Haruka's senior - that changed the course of Haruhi's path forever.

Haruka had not exactly hidden her wilder side (which helped explain her reason for seeking out her estranged relatives) but Haruhi had never had cause to question Haruka about _that _side of her personality until the night she pulled up to their usual meeting spot on the back of a motorcycle, roaring to a stop inches away from where Haruhi stood before reaching behind herself to grab a second helmet.

"Hurry and climb on," the older girl instructed curtly, "I'm being followed."

After a brief pause, Haruhi did as told and climbed on behind Haruka's lanky form, slipping the helmet over her head. The rush of their departure had Haruhi grabbing her cousin about the waist much more tightly than she had intended, and it took a good minute before her heartbeat slowed enough for her to peer over Haruka's shoulder.

Glad she didn't suffer from motion sickness, Haruhi watched the city blocks fly by, slightly reassured by the warmth she could feel from Haruka's back through her jacket.

When the traffic lights before them turned red, Haruka took right turns before oncoming traffic could accelerate and cut her off, taking so many turns that even with her excellent mapping skills, Haruhi had a hard time keeping track of their location.

One thing did become clear, though – they were heading towards the more ritzy part of the city.

Occasionally Haruhi glimpsed other motorcycles behind them, enough to know Haruka hadn't been joking about being followed. They were just barely able to keep up with Haruka's pace, and as though aware of her tails, Haruka turned another sharp corner and then sped down a ramp into an underground parking garage. Apparently someone was expecting them, for one of the stalls was open, metal gate raised, and Haruka slide the bike to a stop inside, turning the key and letting the engine die as she swiftly kicked the stand down. She slid off much more gracefully than Haruhi could have managed, and jogged back to pull the metal gate down.

"Here," she offered a hand down after the gate clicked closed, and Haruhi accepted it gratefully; her legs were still a little unsteady from lingering adrenaline. Haruhi pulled off her helmet, glad to breath more freely, and gave the older girl a questioning look – just _what_ was Haruka getting her involved with?

"Not yet," Haruka advised, and grabbed her hand, tugging her out of the stall and into an empty hallway towards an unmarked elevator.

Haruka pressed '9' when they stepped inside, and leaned back against the mirrored wall with a long sigh.

"Don't take anything they might say personally," she warned as the doors opened, and they walked down another hallway to the second door.

It was pulled open before Haruka could knock or reach for the handle, and a blonde stuck her head out.

"It's about time," she said primly, unmistakably a reprimand. "We were about to worry."

"Only about to?" Haruka murmured, and reached out to muss the blonde's long hair as she passed into the apartment. The girl jerked away, scowling as she tried to pat her locks back into order.

With a sense of resigned foreboding, Haruhi followed Haruka inside. Two other girls ae present in the living room they enter: a petite young woman with hair so dark a black it gleams blue under the lights, who's sitting at a low table typing away on a laptop, and another with long raven hair who is paces barefoot across the wooden floor.

She turned around with a snap at the sound of their shoes on the floor. "Well?" she asked, tone even more imperious than the blonde.

"Calm down, Rei-chan. I got the data and picked up Haruhi, and they still couldn't catch me."

The other girl seemed to expand with her anger, and Haruhi worried for a moment that things would degenerate into a fight, 'til the third girl spoke into the space between them.

"That wasn't Rei's point, Haruka-san, but since you've made it here, it's hardly worth arguing about."

Her eyes came up from her screen to look straight at Haruhi. "I hope the pit stop was worth it," she murmured, but 'Rei' was close enough to overhear the comment.

"I doubt it," she said scornfully, eyeing Haruhi up and down with a condescending attitude.

"Rei." Haruka's tone warned her to back off.

"Hmph."

Despite her cousin's earlier warning, Haruhi found herself annoyed.

"I don't think you have the authority with which to judge me," Haruhi stated in her calmest voice.

Haruka groaned, and slapped a hand over the other girl's mouth before she could respond.

"Before you put your foot in it, why don't you give me a chance to explain things to Haruhi?"

It was less a question than an unsubtle 'back off,' and Rei sniffed before turning on her heel and leaving the room. The other two made to leave, but Haruka waved them back.

"No, no, you're actually helpful, Ami-chan, and Mina, she should meet you, too. Stay."

After a pause, Ami sat back down and the blonde – Mina – joined them as well.

"First of all, sorry for pulling you into this without warning," Haruka began. "I do some… undercover work on the side, but apparently they've been doing a bit of surveillance of me in return. I would've stood you up for dinner rather than involve you, but they got pictures of us at our last meeting – I saw that in their files – so I couldn't be sure they wouldn't grab you if they lost me."

This made more sense out of the evening's events than anything else Haruhi could have thought up, and she let go of some of her guard as an explanation finally seemed forthcoming.

"I suppose it's not well-known that we're related," she allowed thoughtfully, and watched as Haruka's wariness faded into appreciative amusement.

The blonde looked confused, but Ami seemed to be following despite the conversational gaps, and asked dryly, "They didn't mistake your meetings for a date?"

Haruhi had to appreciate someone who could catch her older cousin off-guard, and they all had the reward of hearing Haruka's deep chuckle a moment later.

"I might expect that from Mina, but not you, Ami-chan." Ami looked quietly pleased by the comment.

"So they might have mistaken her as a contact," Mina concluded, drawing the conversation back.

"But what exactly _does_ your extra job entail?" Haruhi had to ask.

The relaxed air ceased to exist around the table, and Ami shot an uncertain look at Mina. But Haruka cut her off before Mina could speak. "I think Haruhi might be interested in a little part-time work too, girls. Otherwise I would've taken her to a safe house, rather than coming here."

This seemed to stymie both girls, and Haruhi cleared her throat gently.

"That's all very well, but you haven't actually told me _what_ _you do_."

A flurry of exchanged glances precedes them all talking at once.

"Covert operations."

"Information gathering."

"Cross-dressing."

That last had them all staring at Mina, who blinked at their looks.

"What?"

"Anyways, the fact is that I can blend in pretty well at businesses who need temp workers, and find out – with Ami's help – where to locate incriminating evidence about their less-than-legal deals."

"We're like superheroes!" Mina threw in, and this time none of them paused at her non sequitur.

"We work semi-independently to turn up dirt on companies that are doing under the table deals, either on the black market with drugs and weapons, or human trafficking."

This information wiped any trace of bemusement from Haruhi's face, and she leaned forward now, intent. Haruka hid her pleased, sharp smile behind a hand.

"And who gets to make _use_ of that information?" Haruhi asked. Perceptive as usual, Ami recognized a potential ally when she saw one.

"The government, usually. They do give us some funds for our efforts, but they have the authority to put people behind bars - unlike us."

"Not vigilantes, then?" Haruhi felt comfortable enough to prod her cousin.

"Oh, I don't know… there's a certain thrill to taking things into your own hands," Haruka returned.

"Haruka-san," Ami warned.

"Kidding, just kidding!"

"But how did you get involved in this?" Haruhi interjected. "I can't imagine it's something the family approves of you doing."

The humor fell abruptly out of Haruka's face. "No, they don't anything about this. They _think_ I do deliveries around town. But really, I got involved with this kind of stuff right out of high school – right after Michiru, my best friend, was kidnapped."

This was perhaps the most, and worst, shock of the night, for Haruka has never mentioned anything like this to Haruhi in the two years they'd been having dinner together.

"Have you – do you – know… why?" she asked, sympathy and concern rising quickly at the rare look of grief on Haruka's face.

"We're still trying to find where – but we do know who," Ami put in quietly.

"She's a virtuoso, a master musician," Haruka explained quietly. "And unusually beautiful, too. It's likely someone wanted... _exclusive_ performances, and hired a second party to kidnap her."

"How can I help?" The question is out before Haruhi can finish thinking about it, and only Haruka looks amused; the other two are shocked.

"Yeah, I thought you were a lot like Kotoko," Haruka commented. "Ready to take on any injustice whether you're equipped for it or not."

Haruhi blinked. "You knew my mother?"

Haruka shrugged, as though it hadn't been a secret.

"I didn't really _know_ her. But she came to visit a few months before she died, and I overheard her arguing with Grandfather about forgiving Ryouji-jiisan. It made an impression on me even then, though all her arguments didn't succeed in moving Grandfather. He's just as stubborn today as he was then," she concluded.

Haruhi was stunned. She'd never known that Mother had attempted such a thing, though it fit perfectly with Kotoko's character now that Haruka had mentioned it. She wondered briefly if her father had known, and if so, what he'd said.

"And I'm like her?" Haruhi asked quietly.

Haruka smiled a bit. "I've learned a lot more about you than your ambitions, in the last two years," she explained. "I imagine you're a lot more like Kotoko than Ryouji-jiisan, but even without her example, you have strong convictions about what's right and wrong."

And since that was also true concerning Haruhi's growing perceptions concerning Haruka during that same amont of time, she could only tilt her head in silent acknowledgement.

"Here's the disk," Haruka handed over a small sliver to Ami, and pushed away from the table. "I'm going to take the car to get Haruhi home. Let me know if you find anything pertinent."

Ami was already sliding the little drive into her computer, gaze fixated on the screen, so it was Mina who nodded to Haruka, and stood to see them out.

"Makoto will be put out at not getting the chance to feed you, so drop by later this week, okay? And Haruhi-san, if you really are interested in a… job, have Haruka bring you by as well."

With a nod, Haruhi agreed to think it over before following Haruka out the door, quite certain that it would not be the last time she crossed their threshold.


	55. Mission: Enemy 38

Enemy of My Enemy...

Haruhi knew she had made a horrible mistake when she walked into what should have been her new boss's office and found three unfamiliar men going through the large mahogany desk.

"Um... I must have gotten off on the wrong floor," she said, and stepped backwards through the doorway.

The nameplate to her left on the wall outside caught her attention; in curving gold characters, her boss's name was spelled out.

She glanced back into the office - her second mistake.

One of the men was advancing quickly towards her, a determined, if not pained, look on his narrow face. Behind him, a foreign-looking man was pulling on his golden-brown locks, and cursing in a foreign language as the third man covered his eyes with one long-fingered hand. It might have been the late hour, or just the unexpectedness of the situation, but Haruhi didn't even resist when the first man grabbed hold of her upper arm and pulled her back into the office.

The slamming of the door behind her had an enlivening effect on her.

"Who are you? You're not supposed to be in here!"

That was her third mistake, she was to decide months later. If she had only remembered that she was new to the corporation, and didn't know anything!

"How astute," the third, dark-haired man said drily, and she frowned.

"What're we going to do with her?" the man behind her asked, sounding plaintive to her ears. The light-haired man suddenly stopped muttering to himself, and grabbed her shoulder.

"We cannot destroy such youthful potential!" he announced. The darker-haired man, who seemed to be the leader, or at least the decision-maker, gave a long sigh.

"I don't suppose you'd be open to bribery?" he asked, seemingly to himself. "But bribery is never a guarantee of silence."

Haruhi glared.

"Well! Unexpected meetings are not always as unpleasant as they sometimes seem. Who are you?"

His eyes turned piercing, and Haruhi had a moment of doubt. He acted a lot like her new boss. Did they work for the corporation?

"Fujioka Haruhi," she said, reasoning that it would be easy enough to discover she had lied; her id was in her coat pocket. And she might yet convince them to let her leave. A furrow appeared between the leader's eyebrows.

"I don't recognize that name," he said, and three pairs of eyes bored into her.

She sighed and pulled out her I.D., the bold print easy to see under the office's lights.

"I was hired last week, and just completed staff orientation two days ago."

There was a quiet groan beside her, where the first man still held her left arm, and a deeper scowl from the leader. The blond seemed to be waiting to respond. "Their record-keeping in employee lists is as unorganized as their financial ones," the leader muttered angrily. There was silence as he thought, and Haruhi watched the other two wait for his decision.

"New employees sometimes stop showing up to work, don't they? You didn't know what you were getting into, and you've changed your mind. Yes, that should work."

Haruhi blinked in confusion.

"You want me to quit?"

"What a brilliant idea, Ootori!" the other enthused.

Haruhi glared at them both.

"I'm not quitting my job! I just went through three months of interviews for this position!"

The one called Ootori looked vaguely surprised.

"Three months? What position do you hold now?"

Haruhi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden interest.

"Shouyama-san's assistant."

A shiver of unease went down her spine when their attention refocused on her instantly.

"He hasn't taken an assistant in _five_ years." The man's hold on her loosened, perhaps in shock.

Ootori had turned inscrutable. "We're taking her with us," he said, shocking them all.

"Eh?"

Haruhi wasn't sure if she had heard herself or one of the others make the intelligent noise.

* * *

They had indeed taken her with them, down stairs and hallways she had never seen before. Even in three months of attending interviews and receiving tours, she thought she'd seen a decent amount of the company.

Apparently, that wasn't the only thing she had been deceived about.

"They fund one of the worst cases of child-labor in third world countries; we're still trying to get enough paper evidence for the government to shut them down."

"So you work for the government?" she asked. The silently exchanged glances were not reassuring.

"Let's say, rather, that the government sometimes finds need of our services."

"We're very exclusive," the brunette added, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Exclusive to those who can pay," Ootori stipulated.

The first man had kept his silence once they'd left, and was now sitting farther away, looking to be napping.

"So!" the other man quickly interspersed, "Would you like to help us stop such criminal activity?"

Haruhi took her time getting their measure, and finally nodded.

"Yes."

Both men looked surprised.

"Really?"

A slightly cynical smile completely changed her face, as did the angry light in her dark brown eyes, and all three quickly revised their first impression of her.

"'The enemy of _my _enemy is my friend,' right? Just tell me what you need copies of. I'm sure you know what the company's motto is: 'Help the disadvantaged, so that we can re-shape the future together.' Why do you _think_ I choose them, of all the large companies vying for my attention? I'd gladly bring them down by myself, but I'm sure you have more man-power. If you like, think of it as out-sourcing."

There was another silent exchange between the men, but this time the atmosphere was very different.

"When we've finished up this little job, why don't you think about finding employment with us? You'll be out of work anyways."

Haruhi considered it.

"Will you be giving me a better look at what, exactly, I would be doing?"

This time, even Ootori's smile was reassuring.

"We never take anyone who _doesn't_ know what they're getting into," he assured her.

"Well then. I look forward to working with you, gentlemen."

* * *

A/N: And so the beginning of Haruhi's career as a secret agent began... Or so they thought. Bwahaha.


	56. Mission: Disaster 75

Disaster

It was an unmitigated disaster, Kyouya could only think as the shrill yell of his best friend and some-time partner rattled from his headset.

"Tamaki," he began, but the blonde was still blabbering. A tick began in the genius' forehead, as he tried to remember that he had learned patience. It had taken years of training, but the lesson had been learned. Or so he had believed.

"**_Tamaki!_**"

Finally, silence on the frequency.

He sighed, relieved.

"Is there a problem, Tamaki?" he inquired, tone pleasant enough, if you had never dealt with the Ootori heir before. But for the others listening in on the private frequency, it was a warning to duck and cover.

"H-h-he… He! She! Huu…."

And that was likely all the reply Kyouya would receive. He gritted his teeth in pure frustration. _I should have known he wasn't ready to take the rookie out. I should have known, I should I have stuck him with Kaoru, I… _

"Dispatch?"

Kyouya suddenly sat up straighter, hearing the other operative's voice through Tamaki's headset.

"Fujioka? Report," he commanded, forcing his irritation down at the sign that at least the whole mission wasn't botched. Yet.

"I'm sorry sir, I think that was my fault," came the low voice of the team's newest member.

"Oh?" Kyouya asked, feeling his patient mask beginning to slip dangerously. "And how have you managed to upset the idiot? More than usual, than is?"

Offended sputtering told the black-haired heir that his friend was still sensible, if not at full working order.

"Um," the embarrassed tone had Kyouya straightening just a bit in surprise. In the two weeks Fujioka had gone through their training and tests, he had never shown uncertainty. Before today, Kyouya would have bet money that little could unsettle the agent, despite his lack of experience.

"I think Suou-san was caught off-guard by… _me_," Fujioka responded, voice having steadied out.

Kyouya went still, one brow flying up into dark bangs.

"Girl," came a gasping voice, and the other brow joined the first.

"Still with us, Tamaki?" Kyouya asked, though in truth he was feeling a bit off-balance as well.

"So, Fujioka, how long were you planning on keeping your identity a secret?" he asked, flexing his fingers against the armrests of his chair to take out his tension rather than let it come through in his voice.

"Um, I had thought your father would have included all that information in my file, sir," Fujioka Haruhi responded, sounding unsure again.

Kyouya bit down on a curse.

_Father…_

"I see," he said quickly, though it was impossible for him to see at that precise moment all the possible repercussions of his father's decision. The other men were, blessedly, keeping silent for now, waiting for their leader's next instructions.

"If you can get Tamaki off to the side, try and complete the mission," Kyouya ordered after a quick minute of debate.

Five precise responses of "yes, sir!" came through, and once again, Kyouya started in surprise.

He reached out instinctively to engage his side of the link again, but then pulled back, an inscrutable expression on his face. With Tamaki's staggering discovery, he had thought things would have to be salvaged as best could be handled, but if Fujioka… if the woman could follow through as they had first planned, perhaps he wouldn't have to salvage things after all. Reviewing the past few weeks, Kyouya altered his thinking just a bit. If the men were able to continue with success, there would be no need for him to step in. It seemed like the newest recruit would fit as well as he had predicted before, as long as she kept on being unaware of her affect on the blonde agent.

Kyouya pushed away from the communications panel with a tired sigh. He looked forward to taking a second look at the rookie; he had been so unassuming before, but now Kyouya's curiosity had been caught.

Fujioka Haruhi.

A woman they had all assumed was a man, as the only females to work in the department held secretarial positions. He crossed the small radio base to pour a fresh cup of coffee - he needed to _think. _She hadn't been trying to fool them, he was sure of that much. Kyouya didn't think Fujioka was capable of guile, at least, not when she was interacting with their mission team. It was the reason he had been hesitant to send her out in the first place – he'd seemed too innocent for a man who would be breaking laws and possibly breaking necks. As a female, though, he wondered if she wasn't at an even larger disadvantage.

Well, if anything happened to go wrong tonight, at least Tamaki's chivalrous instincts would keep her safe. His childhood friend was an idiot and often a fool, but when it came to the protection of innocents (usually women), he was deadly serious.

Two hours later Honey called in to report their success. After locking up Kyouya headed home.

This was going to take some work, to figure out what his father was scheming, in sending them a female agent. Since the very beginning, Kyouya's management of his personal team had barred any women from being employed. As Tamaki liked to argue, their purposes were to _rescue_ women, not to get distracted by them. Remembering Tamaki's confused outburst, Kyouya rubbed at his forehead.

This was definitely a disaster.


	57. Mission: Organize 77

Organized Chaos

Kyouya was setting out the blueprints when the team filed in.

"Take a look, everyone, and mark the entrances you would prefer to utilize, including methods of escape and back-up plans."

Six heads bent over the papers, and soon the sound of scratching pencils filled the room.

There was nothing he liked to hear more than the sound of good minds at work, Kyouya thought. While each team already leaned towards particular talents, Kyouya preferred to see what each could come up with, when given the chance.

Haruhi was the first to look up and meet his gaze, so he walked over to examine her plans. As the newest member of the organization (much less of one of the acting teams), her work should have needed the most improvement, but instead, it was flawless. If Kyouya hadn't decided weeks ago that he was going to keep her on, it would have been terribly frustrating. As it was, he merely nodded and moved on, glancing over Tamaki's work next – insane, as usual, but so impossible that it would likely serve as well as any other plan he had hatched. The twins' papers were a maze of twists and turns that only they could keep up with, once put into action.

Next was Morinozuka, and likewise, his usual, straightforward attack seemed simple – until you layered his plans with Haninozuka's. This had long ceased to surprise Kyouya, so he looked at Honey's plans with fortitude, despite their seemingly random and inefficient markings. Later he would overlay the plans, and check everyone else's work, as well. It would be irresponsible in the extreme for him to do otherwise – their lives were literally in his hands, and he had never been cavalier in his commitments.

The two were a force to be reckoned with; actually, all three of his teams were, which pleased him beyond words. Though he couldn't take all of the credit for their innate skills, he could claim the privilege of being the one who had called them out, and found perfect uses for them. Honey and Mori's teamwork had taken more intuition than tactical ability to determine they could be one of his perfect teams, while the twins had been quite an easy decision, once you saw past their flippancy.

Tamaki had taken some thought, and, surprisingly enough, firsthand experience to decide Kyouya in his favor. It was always a good thing when your opponent underestimated you, and the blond had never failed him on that point. Though they were not the most inconspicuous of people, every team had the advantage of a thick protection - in being exactly who they were. It didn't hurt, of course, that they had been perceived as quite aimless before taking up 'international business concerns;' their families and society at large supported the work they thought them to be doing.

"Gather whatever tools you're going to need from Nekozawa, and your firearms from Kasanoda. We'll need to break in sometime in the next two weeks; after that, the corporation plans will be moving locations to a much more secure facility."

Kaoru nodded almost imperceptively across the table – he would be hacking into the mansion's security and any possible digital system on the grounds. That included video, as the teams generally disdained wearing masks, despite Tamaki's plea to use his family's jewel-encrusted ball masks.

Hikaru would meanwhile assemble the necessary outfits for rappelling, climbing, hiding weapons, lock picks and anything else Mori and Honey would decide necessary. The black suits they usually used for covert missions would only need the newest bullet-proof fabric sewn inside, and the belts altered for each team's specific needs.

Tamaki and Haruhi would attempt to make contact with the mansion's inhabitants in the two weeks allotted to them; Kyouya already had an invitation to a party there in four days' time in his pocket. This was not, alas, as easy as it sounded, for they had found (to their dismay) that Haruhi was no good at playing the role of a lady, and though Tamaki and the others were coaching her in their free time, it was going to take much for her to learn the subtleties of upper class mannerisms.

Besides which, she was an indifferent learner at best, prodded along by the men's assurances that it would be worth it. Kyouya was tempted to just have Kaoru dress the part, but he already had a task, and in the long run it would be better for their lone female member to be the one taking female roles, and getting used to the social masks they all had to wear, at some time or another.

Kyouya was a firm believer in sticking as closely to the truth as you could, in such situations.

It made crisis clean up so much easier.

It was still extremely disconcerting, however, to run across Haruhi not two hours later, in a floor-length dress that emphasized her female status, with diamond earrings sparkling to match a necklace that proclaimed both good background and wealth, and fake hair piled high on her head. Tamaki appeared a moment later, lecturing on proper posture for a lady, and Kyouya moved aside to let them practice walking.

He was irritated much later, to realize that that first glance at her stayed stuck in his mind, right up until the moment he fell asleep that night.


	58. Mission: Test 57

Test

Kyouya made sure his hair was lying flat, his jacket was free of wrinkles, and that his folder was tucked properly under his arm. Then he stepped before the camera and door, and typed in the pass code.

It slid open with the quietest 'shush'.

Another door stood a few feet beyond; this one required a hand scan, but this too was successfully completed and he stepped through the thick steel panels. Now what appeared to be a woven metal wall was before him, and a tiny round camera protruded from the wall. He removed his glasses and set his cheek carefully against circle. As he'd expected, it was a retina scan.

When he got through the third door, he was presented with two items on a small table: a .22 revolver and a coiled rope.

He stared at the choices, and a tick began above his right eye. Kyouya suddenly knew what was going on, and he determined that his formerly invisible boss was going to _pay_. He'd heard rumors that other agents had petitioned the boss to exchange the gauntlet of tests to something more fitting - a test of intelligence, perhaps, or demonstrating advanced problem-solving skills.

_This_...

With a grimace of distaste, he picked up the rope and tucked his folder at his back, into his pantswaist. Hopefully his belt would keep the documents in place: the next door had opened upon his choice, and he faced a large chasm.

The door on the other side was at least 20 feet away.

Scowling, he considered the situation. Given the little he knew of their boss, he might have guessed his first meeting with him would be out of the ordinary. If their mission assignments were left to the boss, they always ended up with the more "adventurous" option. However, he hadn't expected this level of... _idiocy_.

By the time he had located the hook, gotten a loop of rope onto it and swung across, his hair was seriously askew, he had ripped his jacket, and he was sticky with sweat. It was the last door; the hallway led straight into the incongruous setting of a normal office.

The agents he passed carefully avoided his path, surprised to find they could still be frightened by a single individual. The secretary took one look at him and rang him through, then watched with wide eyes as he stormed inside and slammed the ornamental door shut behind himself.

Yuzuru Suou was jumping rope behind his desk when Kyouya entered. His amiable greeting was interrupted by the considerable weight of a stuffed folder colliding with his face. He let the flexible cord fall to the ground.

"I _quit_," Kyouya growled, glare unhindered by his usual calm. His glasses slid down to perch precariously on the end of his nose.

"Oh?" Yuzuru asked, and watched with interest as his best team coordinator set his hands on the desk and leaned across, panting.

"You're _insane_. No one should be asked to run through an Indiana Jones set just to arrive for a routine meeting!" Having spent the worst flames of his wrath, Kyouya gathered himself back together. He pushed off the desk and righted his glasses.

"Consider this my two weeks' notice," he finished much more calmly. Then he turned and walked out.

Yuzuru pursed his lips in thought as he watched the young man leave; the grand exit was somewhat spoiled by the large jagged tear in the back of his suit jacket.

Yuzuru looked down at the thin application he had been intending to give to the young agent, and considered what he should do.

* * *

Two weeks later, Kyouya barged through Yuzuru's secretary again, and slammed into the office.

"YOU!"

Yuzuru looked up curiously from the file he was reading.

"Kyouya?"

"Is this a _game _to you?" he asked, voice rising to astonishing levels. Yuzuru blinked.

"_Why_ would you put him on _MY_ team? He needs a psyche ward, not a cache of deadly weapons!"

A blond entered the office behind Kyouya, looking on the verge of tears.

"Otou-san, I promise I didn't mean for Honey-kun to fall off the building!"

* * *

Three years later, Kyouya accompanies Haruhi to the main office to introduce her to their behind-the-scenes boss, and the other agents who often do the prep work for their missions.

When they get through the third door, Kyouya looks at the gun and spiked boots with something that could have been nostalgia in another person.

"Choose the gun," he advises her. "By the time we get through this, you'll want to shoot him."

* * *

A/N: For those who were confused, Yuzuru oversees the whole operation behind the scenes, and Yoshio is the official face of the organization. And I wonder what Kyouya's reaction was to finding out that Haruhi and the two original master minds were already acquainted...


	59. Mission: Bleach 23

Bleach (Extra Chapter)

Tamaki gave a wheezing gasp and clutched at his heart, and grabbed at a nearby chair to support himself.

Haruhi barely acknowledged him.

Kaoru nearly pulled off Hikaru's sleeve, irritating his brother until Hikaru finally looked, and his mouth fell open.

Mori stiffened; Honey burst into tears.

It was Honey: sweet, tender-hearted Honey, who was brave enough to ask what had happened.

Haruhi wasn't proof against her smallest teammate's tears; she sighed, and laid down her mission file.

"It's for my next assignment," she explained simply, and opened the folder so they could read it for themselves.

When Kyouya walked in a few minutes later, he was aware of two things: a murderous intent that seemed to focus in his direction, and a shocking blue of white amongst his agents.

"Have you read over the mission briefs?" he inquired blandly. Tamaki was the first to protest (he hadn't stopped giving Kyouya grief since the first day he'd walked in, announcing that he was the new team leader), and only the magnitude of his screeching made Kyouya pause.

"You're banning _what_?" he interrupted a few minutes into the diatribe. Kaoru cleared his throat.

"I think what Tono is trying to say is: we want to have a say when you change Haruhi-chan's appearance."

Kyouya appeared baffled, and looked at Haruhi questioningly.

"Her appearance? There's something wrong?" he asked.

Tamaki nearly blew through the metal panes of the ceiling. Everyone else looked (politely) disbelieving.

"We could have given you a wig," Hikaru volunteered. "You didn't have to turn her into... into..."

"Storm!" Honey supplied, and teared up again. "Haru-chan isn't a gaijin!"

Kyouya nodded slowly.

"You mean the color... of course I understand; however, disguises are not under my jurisdiction. You'll have to appeal to the Head about that."

Tamaki went oddly silent behind them, and the team turned around to see what had happened.

"The... Head?" Tamaki asked, looking devastated.

"That's correct."

There was another long pause, and everyone jumped when Tamaki let out another, different, scream.

"_Ootou_-san!"

Mori blinked at the trail of smoke Tamaki had left behind in his rush, and then shrugged.

He sort of liked the way it made her look, personally.

Kyouya informed them that they had five minutes to review the material and ask any questions; as they got back to work, he secretly smirked. The tables had _finally _been turned. Then he noticed that Haruhi was still looking at him. He gave her a questioning look. She rolled her eyes.

"You did that on purpose," she accused quietly.

Kyouya appeared mildly insulted. Haruhi gave it up. Out of all the disguises she'd been forced into donning, this one wasn't so bad.

* * *

A/N: A lot of people are having a hard time understanding this, so I suppose my subtlety has gone too far. Haruhi's bleached her hair - so it would be almost white in color. Kyouya was still trying to get back at Suou Yuzuru, and now Tamaki's going to be all over him for Haruhi's hair. Yes, Kyouya is sadistic, and totally used Haruhi for petty reasons, but she's the one who bleached it!


	60. Mission: Aim 71

Taking Aim

They'd had a hard time finding body armor that would fit her until Honey had volunteered the use of his backup set. It was special order - child's size. Once certain... _adjustments_ were made, and the armor checked for all safety tests, the team agreed it was time.

Haruhi drove to the rendezvous point with the twins; Tamaki, Takashi and Mitsukuni would be coming in from the other side.

The sun was just breaching the horizon as they arrived and suited up, looking over the plans one more time. Kaoru checked to make sure their guns were loaded and handed them off. They all slung the sniper-style guns over their shoulders for the trek in, and then slipped radio-fitted helmets on.

"Testing. Red bird to blue bird. Red bird to black bird."

"Blue bird here, I copy."

"Black bird here, I copy."

"I'm ten-four. Let's head out. Resume position one for the first attack."

They kept silent on the approach, not wanting to give away their position should the targets be using a scanner. Running in a single file, they made good time to the building and carefully found look out spots.

"Any movement?"

"Shadow at eleven" Kaoru whispered, and Hikaru eyed the area quickly. There was no other movement - but that didn't mean no one was there.

"One moving up the wall at one thirty," Haruhi quickly added.

"Just one more," Hikaru muttered, mostly to himself. A shot rang out, and then several more followed. Kaoru cursed and hit the ground. Haruhi and Hikaru both narrowed in on where the shots had originated from.

"Lower window, twelve o'clock." Haruhi spoke first, and Kaoru whipped up his gun and shot off a round. The other side was silent.

"They're re-configuring. Position two!"

Haruhi pulled out a smoke bomb and tossed it into the open area between them and the far wall, waiting only to hear the 'hiss' of release before darting forward. Hikaru and Kaoru loosed a barrage of shots at the last places they had seen movement and shadows, covering her entry into the smoke. They switched positions too, to cover the reason why they had used up their one smoke bomb. Kaoru aimed at a moving shadow through a doorway and shot, rewarded by a faint yell.

"One down," he informed his teammates smugly. Hikaru dashed across a large opening, grinning recklessly as shots rang out.

"Two," Kaoru chimed a moment later. Hikaru breathed a sigh of relief, safe now behind the boulder he'd dived for. That lightened the odds considerably.

"Position three," Haruhi muttered into her radio, and as one Kaoru and Hikaru slid around the protective walls and charged straight for the other side. Hikaru zigged while Kaoru zagged, and both tried to dodge the sudden onslaught of bullets.

A dismayed shout sounded and the shots cut off.

Kaoru looked down at his stomach disgustedly.

"I got hit."

Hikaru rushed to his side as his twin sat down heavily. The sound of a throat being cleared brought their attention up; they'd forgotten to check with their third partner. Haruhi stood a few feet away, a gun held to her temple by a smiling, well-dressed man.

"You lose," he informed them gently. Hikaru's hand came up in a slap to cover his eyes, while Kaoru groaned.

"You should never assume you know all there is to know about your enemy," he added, tone almost instructional - but he couldn't quite cover up his amusement. The hand holding the gun relaxed a bit, lowering from its position at Haruhi's temple.

She was just beginning to sigh when he pulled the trigger. She winced, and grabbed reflexively at her upper arm. Her hand came away red and sticky.

"That's just perverse, Kyouya-san," Kaoru complained. "We did all our research and planning perfectly."

One thin black brow rose superciliously.

"Oh? But I put myself in as back-up. Did you miss that security detail?"

Hikaru, who had been their team's hacker for this mission, brought his other hand up to rub at his face, frustrated.

"Ha! Team Hikaru failed!" Tamaki crowed, coming out from behind their defensive wall.

Takashi and Honey also emerged, Takashi looking a bit disgruntled by the paint splatter on his chest. Honey looked untouched, but he presented his helmet - a splatter of blue - and smiled. They all looked at Tamaki, who had three paint splothces on his chest, all black.

Kyouya sighed.

"You can't call that winning!" Hikaru began to argue. Tamaki gave a condescending laugh, and spread out his arms, ready to expound on all of Team Hikaru's mistakes. A shot ran out, and Tamaki stumbled backwards, sputtering and grabbing the fresh red smear over his heart.

"Kyouya -!"

"No one 'wins'," Kyouya interrupted, lowering his gun. "This is a _training_ exercise. Now get cleaned up and report back to headquarters. We'll go over your evaluations there."

He watched with a sharp eye as they split up to leave the training grounds; in the past, his team had trouble accepting just one run, and had often ended hours later than scheduled, their armor completely covered in paint. It wasn't until he heard the two vehicles start that he let a smug smile of his own emerge.

_He_ didn't have a drop of paint on his suit.

"I win."


	61. Mission: Lock 52

Lock

Haruhi had _never _intended to laugh at death. But as the ground raced towards her (or more accurately, she raced towards the ground), she had the epiphany that this was exactly what she was doing.

A few minutes before:

Tamaki had gotten another one of his "great" ideas.

That was the sole reason Haruhi was standing on the roof of a 32-story building. _Only_ his plan was responsible, and that fact had been occupying her mind for the past two hours, as she both sweated (from nerves) and froze (from the constant wind), waiting for her part.

Her scowl might be permanently affixed, for she'd been disgusted (with him _and_ with herself) before they had left the headquarters. _Why _had she not protested this as arduously as she could have, before it was too late? Or taken a sick day, for the first time ever? The twins abused their leave-time without guilt; why should they be the only ones able to escape from unwanted missions?

A few hours before:

"We should have mood music!" Tamaki enthused, waving his right hand in a dreamy arc over the diagram he'd drawn on the board.

Kaoru's attention was snagged from a game of complicated chess that Hikaru had initiated several minutes before.

"What kind?" he asked, a gleam entering his eyes that should have warned his other teammates – if they hadn't been put to sleep long ago by Tamaki's embellishment about the night's plan.

Tamaki beamed, happy to have someone finally contributing input.

"There's this great movie Father took me to see…" the blond began.

A few days before:

She was _never_ going to let him watch action movies on company time again.

This mission plan was covered in unnecessary "short cuts" and "dramatic" strategy.

Letting out a characteristic sigh, Haruhi waited for the signal from Kyouya that would, no doubt, set their plans to a more reasonable scale.

But instead, Kyouya barely glanced at the ream of papers Tamaki had prepared, and signed his name on the top.

Flabbergasted, she had tried to speak up, a protest of the waste of time and resources, but for once Kyouya's mind was not operating in its normal patterns.

She had appealed to the others, hoping _someone _would show sense, but they waved her off; Tamaki's plans were always stupid. But they had a 92.53% success rate, which was more than any other team could boast.

Back to the present:

For the fifth time, she checked the cable, her harness, and all the carabiners that were there to _supposedly_ keep her from hitting the ground (and from dying). She check their screw-locks: tight, and continued waiting.

This was beyond anything that Tamaki had managed to come up with before; she wasn't even participating in the _real_ mission! Instead, she had snuck into the building, climbed through 12 floors worth of air vents, with all the necessary gear _in high heels_, and then perched herself on the roof - _while wearing a short black dress! _to await their success.

Never again.

Tamaki was never putting her through his action fantasies again, and she was never going to let Tamaki touch her wardrobe _ever _again.

The roof door rattled suddenly, as though someone was on the other side, trying to get out, but Haruhi had made sure to jam the lock. She backed away from the roof edge, to peer around one of the huge metal air vents, fingers trembling from the cold on her gun's holster.

And here she had thought she wasn't going to need it, tonight.

There was a bit more fumbling, silence, and then a loud retort that could only have been from a gun. The door squealed open, protesting the rough treatment.

Haruhi peered through the dark to see a silhouette emerge from the doorway, looking around.

_Not good,_ she thought to herself, and wondered if something in the mission had gone awry.

"Fujioka?" came a familiar voice, and she startled, nearly dropping her gun.

"Ootori-san?" she asked, both disbelieving and cautious.

"There you are," he said crisply, moving straight towards her.

She knew she was gaping at him, but couldn't quite stop; he was in one of _their_ suits, the ones with the new armor, over which was fastened a harness identical to hers, with an additional backpack.

It was the lack of glasses, though, that gave her a hint of why he was here; Kyouya only exchanged them for contacts in dire emergencies.

Aware of her look, Kyouya merely raised a brow.

"Just because I allowed Tamaki to slip a tranquilizer into my coffee does not mean I will allow him to get away with it," he said by way of explanation, and she covered her face with one hand, appalled.

"Everything has been taken care of, except your exit. I believe I've sufficiently reworked the plan so that suspicion will fall on him," he added, and she suspected what he muttered under his breath was not a kind appellation for the other man.

"It's your decision: leave him to weasel out and we'll take the elevator down, or save his miserable skin and jump."

Haruhi gave him a level stare, aware that the choice was not as simple as it seemed. But at least he was giving her a hint.

"And if I jump?" she asked.

A disturbing facsimile of a smile twisted his lips.

"You'll have leverage against him for as long as you choose. The rest of the team are all in agreement."

After only a moment's of thought, Haruhi nodded, and stepped off the roof.


	62. Mission: Trip 55

Occupational Hazards

When she drops her mike while inching down a slender air shaft in the middle of her mission, Haruhi stops where she is and regards the empty black space beneath herself broodingly. Five minutes later, she is stuck in an off-shoot air vent. With an annoyed sigh, she wriggles around until her arm can bend to pull the ear piece free, and uses what space there is to throw it down the airway.

Her only consolation, as she listens carefully during its fall, is that she had entered the vent feet first; hopefully it would look like she had been heading _towards_ the main shaft. She begins to rhythmically kick the wall, hoping to catch a janitor's attention.

In the meantime, she thinks over her predicament. Being caught creeping around the unseen corridors of a multi-million dollar security company would mean trouble for anyone. Haruhi knows she's hardly an exception, especially with the harness wrapped around her waist. By the time the special police pry the metal siding away from her, she isn't so much worried as resigned. She expects the handcuffs, and the recitation of her rights; she politely declines to give a statement and asks to wait for her lawyer. The fact that she could, technically, act as her _own_ lawyer she doesn't mention. After all, she needs to delay for as long as possible to give her team time to work. She doesn't doubt that they've been planning since losing contact with her.

When they arrive at the precinct, she looks around, eyes carefully disinterested. An incongruous head of hair amongst the dark suits has her sighing quietly in relief. None of the officers escorting her notice. She has a bit more room in her brain now to wonder why they've brought her straight to the precinct, rather than to the jail, but it all makes sense when they leave her in an interrogation room, and an older, hard-faced detective comes inside and introduces himself.

They're hoping to get some information from her before her "attorney" can arrive. Well, at least law school (and her _other _training) has taught her patience. She meets the detective's eyes, but doesn't respond to any of his questions or allegations.

* * *

It takes less time than she had expected, even knowing Tamaki's alarmist nature.

There is something... disconcerting about Kyouya looking unassuming. She hadn't realized before that gray and black were intimidating colors; tan on him seems to inspire the impression of a young but aggressive lawyer.

He speaks in undertones to the officers at the door; the detective has taken a break from asking questions. She suspects he's gone to the bathroom, since he'd consumed three cups of coffee during the 'interrogation.'

"Fujioka-san, we're ready to go," that smooth voice says in calm tones.

She saves her skepticism for later. Perhaps he'd chosen the wrong career.

Haruhi glances up as they exit the building, and catches a warning glint in his glance. Or maybe he'd picked perfectly.

* * *

Detective Komeno only spends a moment yelling at the officers assigned to the interrogation room before racing through the offices and front lobby.

It takes a moment for him to spot the car; the woman is already sliding into the back of a dark sedan. The slender man standing beside the door moves to get inside after her, and meets Komeno's outraged glare.

And smiles.

Komeno doesn't bother to run after the car; he'd just end up looking stupid. Instead, he slams back inside and demands answers of everyone who has spoken to the "lawyer" who came to escort the suspect away.

"B-But, sir," one brave officer tries, "she works for the Ootori Group!"

Sergeant Minato over district five later says she hasn't heard such creative curses in quite a few years.

* * *

"Did we get the information?" she asks once the car has pulled away from parking lot.

"Yes," he replies shortly. "Take these and change; we'll need to have you seen across town at one of Father's parties in five minutes."

She takes the bag and pulls out a shimmering evening gown, complete with undergarments, shoes and a jewelry box.

"Do I have to?" she murmurs, more dismayed at the idea of wearing heels than facing his considerable wrath.

"They are _quite_ concerned," he bites out.

She looked with misgiving at the clothes, but obediently changes. For once his fulminating glare does not waver, even as she bares more skin than her doctor has seen in recent years.

"Hikaru and Kaoru should have all your paperwork done in a few hours; you've worked for the Ootori Group's accounting division for two years; you received your Masters from Toudai."

She slides diamond earrings into fairly new holes and frowns.

"Two years?" she asks.

"About the time that Schumann and Sons took you on full time, yes."

She gives it up as a bad bargain and listens to the rest of her fictitious history in silence.

They pull up to the front of a sparkling mansion in record time - just over five minutes - and he opens the door for her. She sets one stiletto heel on the gravel of the drive before something occurs to her.

"Do I have an escort?"

Kyouya's smile - never a good sign in these situations - peeks out.

"Yes. Commander Suou."

Though it is tempting to climb right back into the car, she forces her other foot out of the vehicle, and then up the stairs. A quick search through the purse hanging from her wrist produces a gilt invitation, which she offers to the doorman. He takes in her face in a moment, and murmurs greetings.

"If you'll just come this way, ma'am." He leads her to a small receiving room off the main ballroom and invites her to rest on one of the chairs while he locates her escort. She has a minute to compose herself before Yuzuru Suou walks in, beaming at her.

"Haruhi-chan! Tamaki will be thrilled that you could make it."

She smiles shyly at her teammate's father, and takes his proffered arm.

"Yes, I wasn't sure I would finish up at the office in time; I'm afraid I'm still horribly late."

She turns self-conscious eyes up to his fatherly gaze.

"Ootori-san isn't upset, is he?"

Yuzuru laughs, and pats her hand with a patronizing air.

"It only gives him more excuses to tell everyone how hard-working you are, my dear."

* * *

They gather at 1300 the next afternoon, so that everyone can rest after the previous night's events. However, as soon as she steps inside, the 'discussion' resolves itself into a commotion. Tamaki is blaming the twins for not researching the blueprints closely enough, and they are loudly defending their work, pointing out that Kyouya had barely gotten the information to them a day before the mission commenced. Honey is sniffling, trying to hold back tears, but occasionally letting out a distraught wail as Tamaki describes in lurid detail all manner of ills that could have befallen their only female teammate.

Kyouya is telling them all to be quiet in a voice that is slowly losing its control.

"I apologize for my clumsiness."

The others fall silent and look at her, startled. Kyouya's lips pinch together, but after a long moment he lets out a breath.

"Oh, very well. Let's forgot about the botched mission for now," he agrees, and picks up their mission report. "Honey-san, you successfully retrieved the disk while attention was on Haruhi, correct? Then let's see what Syler & Co have been hiding about their satellite intel."

Honey eagerly pulls the slim disk out and hands it over.

* * *

The next day, a detective stops by the main offices of the Ootori Group. He asks at the front desk for Fujioka Haruhi, wondering if they will even be able to find her name on the company roster. To his hidden dismay, the young secretary gives him a floor and office number after just a few moments of thought.

It takes him a few minutes to figure out the layout of the offices once he gets off at the sixth floor, but he is knocking at office #643 soon, and comparing the silver name plate with the others along the hall. They are sadly identical, and the door swings open to reveal a petite, masculine brunette. He had studied her arrest pictures just that morning, and compared it with the newspaper spread that had covered the fundraising gala at Yoshio Ootori's home just a few nights back. The young woman in front of him right now bears almost no resemblance to the sparkling girl in the paper.

"Miss Fujioka?"

Her head tilts slightly to the side, and preoccupied brown eyes behind thick glasses consider him.

"Yes, that's me. How can I help you?"

He pulls out his badge and glances over her shoulder.

"If you would be willing to answer some questions, ma'am."

Fujioka blinks, but steps back and opens the door wider.

"Of course, please take a seat," she glances uncertainly up at him, "if here is okay?"

"It'll do."

She hurries over to one of the chairs facing her desk and picks up the pile of stacked papers there. They are deposited on a small side table that holds a strange figurine; likely a gift from the company, as such a knick knack doesn't seem to her taste. She sits down on the other side of the desk.

"You said you have some questions?"

Detective Tatsuki is impressed at her calm bearing, and has the passing thought that he might have liked to meet her in less constrained circumstances. But then he sets his mind to the job.

* * *

As soon as Detective Tatsuki leaves, Haruhi picks up her phone and dials three digits. Kyouya answers on the second ring.

"Well?"

"I think it went as well as you could have hoped."

A sigh comes through the receiver.

"Good. Return to the office in two hours. We've been given another assignment."


	63. Mission: Beautiful 95

Terrifying Beauty

Kaoru cuts the video feed.

They will need to work quickly to avoid being caught. Tamaki also shuts down several other busy feeds, and they all watch the clock, waiting for the elevator to climb to the correct floor. Kyouya does his part now, calling to ask the target's secretary about a passage in one of their older archives.

Tamaki is monitoring the video outside the target's office, and gives Hikaru the clear to exit the elevator. Hikaru goes first, worried about any armed security guards they may have missed and wanting to protect Haruhi any way he can. Honey copies his information – the same as the last time he'd copied; the target is still in his office, standing near the windows.

Haruhi steps close to the door, and peers in through the glass pane beside it. Hikaru looks in over her head. They both move away in a moment, out of sight against the wood door.

"His back is to us," Hikaru reports to the others, trying to think of how to proceed from here.

"The secretary is coming back!" Tamaki hisses frantically, and Hikaru freezes in panic. This is not like any of their previous missions, being carried out in broad daylight and during working hours.

"Ten-four," Haruhi responds calmly. Beside him, she bends down and lifts the narrow mail flap on the door. Hikaru watches her, wondering what she is doing as she positions her gun in the space, silencer already screwed on. She squints through the opening and pulls the trigger of her gun.

Feeling caught in a time delay, Hikaru turns to look through the glass panel and sees their target crumpling to the floor. Haruhi stands up and replaces her gun in her shoulder holster, buttoning her suit jacket over it.

"In that case we'll come back to the office," she says in a loud voice, bringing one hand up to cover her earpiece. "I'll see if we can reschedule for next week."

Hikaru blinks in confusion as Haruhi grabs his arm, towing him away from the door. They almost collide with the secretary coming around the corner.

"Ah, here she is, sir. We'll be back at the office in a few minutes," Haruhi says, tapping her earpiece. "We need to reschedule our appointment for next week," she tells the secretary in an imperious voice Hikaru has never heard from her before. "The president has had urgent business come up in Australia. Please have Nodase-san call us at his convenience," she adds, pressing a folded piece of paper into the secretary's hand.

"Y-yes, ma'am," the secretary agrees after them as Haruhi strides briskly to the elevator doors. With perfect timing the doors slide open as soon as Haruhi presses the button to go down. They walk in, seeing the secretary sit back down at her desk as the doors close.

"The video feed is back," Kaoru warns them quietly.

"Mori, Honey, move out," Kyouya's voice commands quietly over the frequency. Mori acknowledges; Honey will have to wait until he is in a more remote location before doing any radio traffic. The two in the elevator are silent on the ride down. Several employees join them on levels eight and three; the floors that were scheduled for their early lunch breaks. Office chatter soon covers up their silence, and they all file out at the ground floor lobby.

Kyouya picks them up at the front in a black SUV, and they drive only a few blocks before meeting up with the communications van.

Honey has made it out, and joins them soon on a small motorbike. His hair is windblown and his face is pale as he enters the van, Mori close behind him. It could have just been the ride, but Kyouya notes how the blond sits as far from Haruhi and Hikaru as he can. Inwardly, Kyouya sighs.

"Let's hear your report before we leave the area. Kaoru, if you could list times for the sake of an accurate written copy?"

Kaoru pulls one of the laptops open and nodds for Tamaki to begin.

The recounting goes fine until Hikaru gets to Tamaki's traffic concerning the secretary. Tamaki gives the time, and then they all looked uncertainly at Haruhi. She outlines her actions in a concise, professional manner, but almost everyone winces when she baldly states that she'd 'aimed for the target's upper left chest' and fired one shot. "The target went down and we exited the office to avoid suspicion from the secretary."

She turns her attention from Kaoru to Honey.

"Did you confirm the target's termination?"

Honey blanches, but nods.

"The target didn't move for five minutes; I left at 1203 hours."

Haruhi frowns.

"You didn't check the pulse?"

There is a pause as the men process the fact that she really _has_ just questioned Honey's methods.

"We'll find out soon enough if our mission was successful," Kyouya inserts smoothly. "We're still recording the wire and video feed taps. For now, let's head home. Good job, everyone."

There are murmurs that might have signified agreement, but no one adds to his statement. Haruhi looks confused, though accepting of Kyouya's command, and follows the others out to their personal vehicles.

* * *

It only takes one night for the men to get over their shock, and the next day at the debriefing, Kaoru is the first to gather his nerve and ask Haruhi why she seems so unconcerned about ending another's life. They are all, even Kyouya, taken aback by the sudden anger in her face, blazing in her dark brown eyes.

"Do you even know _who_ Nodase-san is? What he single-handedly has done?" she asks. "He's ruined countless families by denying them severance pay and medical aid. His business practices have cost children their lives, and when someone was brave enough to sue, the courts let him off with a _fine_."

She shakes her head emphatically, short brown locks becoming disarranged, a disbelieving expression sliding onto her face.

"A fine, when he's a multi-millionaire? A fine will never stop those kinds of crimes, or ever be enough to pay for what he's done."

Justice herself looks out from Haruhi's face as she declares his fate; her fury makes her eerily beautiful. Every man finds himself unconsciously leaning back, away from that beauty, chilled and perhaps a little terrorized.

"It's only logical that _someone_ would want him dead. What's amazing is that no one has tried before now. I'm just glad Suou-san agreed to take the case."

The weakness Kyouya feels in his knees is relief, he discovers. For if Haruhi was not a loyal, trust-worthy agent, he can only speculate at the damage she could inflict by administering justice with her own hands.


	64. Mission: Fatal 99

Fatal Attraction

Kaoru handed off a second round of ammunition to Haruhi, grateful for the sound-buffering headphones that muffled the steady gunfire.

Once they had realized Haruhi had no compunctions about killing those she had judged 'guilty,' the higher-ups had been assigning her a… slightly _different_ role in their missions. Kaoru frowned to himself; lately their missions had been far from the norm for Kyouya's team.

More killing and less espionage. More destruction and less make-up.

He wondered if that had been from Kyouya's recommendation, or someone higher up tweaking their group's description.

For Tamaki certainly wasn't enjoying these missions, and after the number of hits Haruhi was making tonight, the blond would likely take the matter up with his father. Kaoru wasn't planning on stopping him, either, though seeing Haruhi like this was a rare privilege. Of sorts.

After all, she hardly seemed female unless they were putting her into a dress and a wig; her everyday behavior had most of the agency believing she _was _male – and just good at cross-dressing. But when she was like this – ruthless, focused and almost cold-blooded – she was almost… almost…

Kaoru scowled as the sound of a car exploding broke his train of thought.

She was almost attractive – almost _sexy_. And her aura was weirdly magnetic.

At least, that's how Kaoru felt, holding himself back from getting too close to the one-woman destruction machine Haruhi was right now. Distract her when she was like this, and she was liable to put a hole (or several) through you. And wouldn't _that_ be the way to end the night. Talented she might be, loyal she might be, _sexy_ she _might_ be… but Kaoru was going to keep a measured distance.

Besides, office romances were frowned upon, and all of his superiors were armed. Some even carried guns.

* * *

A/N: This really meandered and took off in a strange direction while I was writing it. Hope you enjoyed this short edition of 'Haruhi being sexy.' Because Haruhi's too good at being different.


	65. Mission: Sneer 35

Sneer

A slight female wearing a crimson gown backed out of the elaborately decorated ballroom, right into Kyouya Ootori's chest.

"Ex-excuse me!"

With a modest blush, she slipped around him, but not before glancing up at his face for a quick second look. Kyouya barely spared her a glance, moving sedately to stand in the entrance to scan the room for anyone of interest.

The others party goers in the hallway hardly gave this interchange a passing thought; some eyes might have lingered on the feminine figure, but only because the contrasting red of her dress made her pale skin and dark hair more pronounced under the many chandeliers lining the hall.

Out of the main area, she pushed open an unmarked door that all the female guests knew to be the powder room, despite its camouflage. Inside, ladies sat or stood talking, watching each other while reapplying makeup or having their dresses mended from careless steps on the dance floor.

With a shy smile at the older women, the younger passed them for the curtained stalls at the back of the room. Listening for a moment after pulling the heavy curtain closed behind herself, she was reassured that the conversations had not faltered. Kneeling, she emptied her red handbag on the carpeted floor, re-checking her supplies.

The form fitting, sleeveless gown slid off easily enough once she was able to reach the hooks at the back, and she took her first deep breath since being dressed two hours before. A few of the sequins were actually disguised snaps, and allowed her to neatly fold the satin material into a small rectangle, so that it would fit into the matching handbag.

It was the undergarments she wore that would have caused suspicion, had any of the women walked in on her now.

A black, sleeveless top hugged her meager curves, and small black shorts cut across the tops of her thighs. She spared a moment to scowl at the length of leg left bare; had they chosen a dress _without_ a slit up to her thigh, she could have worn leggings. But it was past time to be upset about her costume, and time to focus on her real reason for being at such a bothersome party. She lengthened the cord of the handbag and swung it over her head and right arm, then picked up the items on the floor.

Haruhi had deliberately chosen the middle stall, and now pulled back the curtain separating her stall from the farthest one. It boasted a window that, in daylight, would have showed an impressive landscape.

But night had fully fallen, and Haruhi could only hope the noise of the party wouldn't filter into the room as she eased the lock open and pushed the window up. Grateful when only a small breeze brushed her face, she tucked an envelope into her waistband, and leaned her upper body out through the window. Just as Kaoru had promised, the study windows were open, two stories up and to the left. Hoping that Kyouya's presence meant that Morinozuka was in place, she aimed the miniature crossbow at the space between the open window panes.

The new prototype made a clicking sound as it fired, and Haruhi split her attention between holding still and listening for any discord in the powder room. The hum of music coming through the open door saved her; voices swelled with d the new arrival, but didn't sound an alarm.

Her small anchor shot up into the dark, trailing thin wire and a metal spear was thrust out into the air, swinging into her line and twisting, so that the wire spun around it like a snake coiling, then caught. Relieved, Haruhi waited for the line and spear to be pulled into the room, and scooted her weight onto the sill in preparation. The black leather gloves were Tamaki's touch, but she was grateful for them despite the color once she wrapped the wire around her hands. A tug to tighten the line, and then Morinozuka was reeling her up.

Haruhi used the brick of the manor walls to help climb upward as much as she could; at least the twins had made sure her high heels had decent traction this time. In under a minute, Mori pulled her into the room, eyes scanning her figure but not lingering anywhere, and Haruhi was doubly glad that he had been the one designated for this stage of the mission.

"I've got the key and the code; you can catch up to your patrol."

Mori was one of the guards assigned for the night's party, to keep guests out of the private rooms. Instead of doing _that_, he had helped her into the most protected room in the mansion.

"Tamaki is next up, in three minutes. Brown hair," he warned her as he slipped into the hallway.

Haruhi hurried to the safe sitting beneath a side table. The front had been painted to look like an intricate jungle scene, and the number pad looked out of place at the top. This was the only part that might go wrong; their host was known for his paranoid nature, and the combination they had been given would be invalid if he'd changed it before the ball began. Haruhi held her breath as she typed in the code and then slid the key into a tiger's mouth. The safe clicked open, and she pulled the heavy metal farther open with her fingertips slowly. Not a squeak sounded, and she sighed with relief. Footsteps in the hallway were muffled by thick Persian rugs, but she still had a few seconds' warning, and flew behind the large oak desk.

A key was inserted into the office door, and light spilled in from the hall as the guard entered the room. Boots made a sharp clicking noise against the wood floor, and Haruhi tracked the guard's progress straight towards the safe.

"Haruhi?"

She hadn't really doubted their abilities, but it was still relief that flowed through her at Tamaki's voice.

"I haven't finished yet," she said as she stood up.

Then blinked. Tamaki had done more than dye his hair. Was that a _wig? _Tamaki blinked innocently at her, and then saw where her attention had gone.

"Ah! Do you like it?" He spun around to give her the full effect, and Haruhi covered her eyes with a silent groan.

"Please tell me you haven't hidden something in it," she said.

He looked insulted. "With so many ladies touching it? I wouldn't dare."

Haruhi shook her head and crossed back to the safe, sliding the envelope from her waist and into the safe. It closed with a satisfied click, and Haruhi strode to the window, ready for the night to be over. Her feet were killing her, and Tamaki's waist-long braid had given her the start of a headache.

"Please hold my anchor in place. I'm heading home."

Tamaki whistled as she turned, and she flushed, remembering what she was wearing.

"And include a jacket and some pants next time! I'm not against disguises, but it's freezing outside!"

She didn't give him time to refute her argument, latching the anchor to the window sill and sliding over with a quick look around. The garden below was dark, but closer to the ballroom, lanterns had been set up periodically for those who wanted to escape the ballroom. She only waited for Tamaki's hand to appear on the line before pushing off, feeling a moment's remorse as the gloves again protected her hands from the thin wire. The air rushed past her as she descended, blowing her short hair into a frenzy; she _really_ was ready to be home.

But arms caught her as she neared the ground, and Haruhi bit back an angry epithet. And then bit back sudden laughter as Kyouya grunted, not having predicted her quick descent.

"Sorry, Kyouya-san," she said, but he caught the laughter; she was too tired to disguise her satisfaction that someone else was suffering from this infernally complex mission.

"Be at the office at 0730 hours for the next phase," he said as he set her feet on the ground. Her mouth dropped open in outrage, and he turned an impressive sneer on her.

"Quid pro quo."

"As if _I_ wanted to go with Tamaki's idea!"

Voices approached, and she glared one last time before racing off. Kyouya melted back into the dark garden, but not without a smirk in the direction she had run.

* * *

A/N: So what was in that envelope? No really, you tell me. And we'll see where it goes.


	66. Hitsuzen: Enter 33

A/N: If you have never read xxxHOLiC, you will likely be confused as to what's going on. I suggest you read it (because it's an amazing manga), but if you really insist… just continue on. It's not crucial to understanding what's going on – it would just make it easier and more meaningful. Yes, this is a crossover. But it's still focused on H & K. You'll see...

Entrance

Haruhi looked through the gates and sighed.

The building was just as it had been described by her colleagues, but she wasn't sure if this was going to be a good or bad thing.

With a thought to the situation at hand and her own limited abilities, she sighed again (it was a bad habit, she'd been told) and stepped through the gate. The barrier barely rippled.

"Welcome!" two little girls greeted her, stopping her progress at the door to smile craftily until she smiled shyly back. Then one after the other blinked, like an echo, and smiled with real welcome.

"A customer!" "A customer!" they called out, as though in celebration, and she followed them inside.

"Eh?" a voice responded moments later, and Haruhi turned around to see a tall, skinny youth adjusting his glasses as he came through the door behind her.

His eyes were mismatched, she noted, and finished taking off her shoes.

"Is the shop keeper in?" she asked the little girls, who nodded vigorously.

"Ah," came the boy's voice again. "You're a customer."

He followed her down the hallway quietly as the little girls danced along, singing a soft tune that she could only catch pieces of.

They pulled open beautifully decorated shoji at the end of the hall, and motioned her inside.

The time witch was exactly as she'd heard, Haruhi reflected, as she stepped into a traditional room, occupied by a woman lying in a manner too deliberately lazy to be genuine.

And just as she'd been warned, the time witch's eyes seemed to lighten with interest when she caught sight of Haruhi.

"Ooh," she said in a delighted manner, sitting hurriedly upright. "I hadn't been expecting you so soon."

The boy gave a startled (and partly awed) look at her as he set his school bag down.

Haruhi frowned.

"It seemed pointless to run out of options first, merely because of some false sense of pride," she said, and the witch laughed.

"I _do_ like you, Fujita-san," she purred, and waved a hand at the boy. "Tea, Watanuki!"

He scuttled out.

"I am Yuuko Ichihara," she said, leaning her chin onto a hand as she examined Haruhi. "The keeper of this shop. What wish would you like for me to grant?"

Haruhi sat upon the tatami, taking her time to consider Ichihara-san. _At least she's a professional_, she thought, remembering the name she had been addressed by.

"You can call me Haruhi," she offered, and Yuuko gave a smile. Haruhi relaxed a bit at the genuine pleasure in the expression this time.

"It seems that a house is being haunted," she explained, and the distinct sound of rattling china signaled Watanuki-san's return.

"H-haunted?" he asked, setting the tray down on a low table. She didn't miss the way his hands shook, just slightly.

"Yes," she responded, and sniffed at the tea he was pouring. "Chamomile?" she inquired, sincerely curious about the added flavor.

"Ah, yes," Watanuki-san said, and sat back after exchanging a look with the witch. "I think it's relaxing."

Haruhi gave him a gentle smile. "I agree." She inhaled the aroma with a pleased expression.

"There are a group of ghosts haunting a house in town," Haruhi continued after a sip. "I've had several complaints, and must see that the issue is cleared up soon."

"So the responsibility has passed to you, has it?" Yuuko murmured; she had not been directing the question to her, but Haruhi nodded in response, anyways.

"I've never mastered exorcism," she admitted bluntly. "I didn't see any need for it, in my job."

"Not in your line of work, of course not," Yuuko deduced, then suddenly gave a cat-in-the-cream grin.

"Watanuki will help you!" she chimed happily, and the boy moaned, drooping over the still-steaming tea pot.

Haruhi gave the witch a long-suffering look. "That's going to be added to the price, I suppose?"

Yuuko's widening grin was answer enough.

"I'll see to the payment after the ghosts have departed," Haruhi said after a moment of considering inevitability, and Yuuko nodded, swallowing the larger part of her glee.

"That will be acceptable. Oh! And you'll need to wear this," the lean woman said, face serious but eyes utterly mischievous. She whipped out a bag, seemingly from nowhere. "They're not your regular ghosts, after all."

"And what about me?" the boy asked with foreboding dread. _She would add some ridiculous costume to my debt_, he thought to himself.

"You're fine as you are, Watanuki," the witch assured him, ignoring his disbelieving stare. "But remember to be thankful later, _ne_?"

Haruhi took the bag and glanced inside.

_Figured._

* * *

A/N: To explain a few things to people who don't read xxxHOLiC: Yuuko owns a shop that exists in its own dimension and has the ability to grant people's wishes – for a price. Watanuki works for her as payment for his own wish, and has the dubious 'talent' of attracting spirits. (This can come in handy or be really dangerous).

Yuuko uses "Fujita" to address Haruhi, because names have power, and as we will find out later, it would be a very bad thing for people to know Haruhi's true name. Hence Haruhi's comment about her professionalism; Yuuko also does not go by her real name.

Some of this will be from Watanuki's P.O.V., just to warn you. He's both easy to write in this setting and also necessary, as there is still quite a bit of mystery surrounding the Ouran characters that hasn't been revealed yet.


	67. Hitsuzen: Leave 34

Departures*

Watanuki had been surprised (and surely _someday_ he would stop being surprised) by how much a wardrobe – no, scratch that – _Yuuko's_ wardrobe, could change a person.

Haruhi (as she had requested he call her) now looked like a cute young woman, rather than an androgynous (though still attractive) young adult. The dress Yuuko had forced on her was the height of fashion these days; Watanuki knew, because Himawari-chan had been talking about going shopping earlier that week and shown him a picture of what she'd planned to purchase.

He glanced at Haruhi, and wondered how her hair could look _softer_ than before, when he _knew_ Yuuko had not touched it.

With a start, he realized the young woman had stopped walking, and was looking through an intricate wrought-iron gate. She pushed at it, and with a groaning creak it opened.

With much trepidation, he followed her inside, and stared at the mansion before them with a familiar sense of foreboding.

Haruhi glanced at him, and considered telling him it would be all right, but guessed from experience that the words would be useless in reassuring him.

"Do you sense anything?" she asked, curious about his abilities, and the reasons Ichihara-san might have sent him along with her.

"… Roses," he finally said. "It smells like roses."

They both glanced around. No rose bushes were in evidence, just green grass and the stately mansion's somewhat intimidating façade.

"I see," she said. Watanuki sent her a disbelieving look; Haruhi ignored it.

"I suppose we'll have to ring the bell," she decided, and strode forward. With a small yelp, Watanuki ran to catch up with her.

He didn't hear anything when she pressed the button, but then, the house _was_ supposed to be haunted. It took a lot not to run screaming when the door opened by itself, and he suspected his unusual fortitude had something to do with the no-nonsense aura his companion was putting out.

They stepped inside, and looked around. It was like walking into some English tea room, Watanuki thought with awe, misgivings set aside for a moment at the sight of such elegance (and the noticeable lack of ghosts or spirits).

"Hey, now…!" came a surprised voice to the right, and they looked over to see a group of young men staring at them. One, a blond, had stood up from a grouping of chairs, and seemed ready to walk over.

Watanuki wondered what they were doing, meeting in a haunted house, when the smell of roses suddenly got stronger, and then turned… _wrong._

He covered his nose and mouth surreptitiously as the blond man drew closer, looking caught between a frown and burgeoning delight. Watanuki didn't miss the way his gaze darted between the young woman and himself, moods fluctuating according to who his eyes were on.

"We're closed right now," the blond said with regret, and without thinking, Watanuki stepped slightly behind the short woman.

"Really," Haruhi said, her tone conveying significant doubt. "Fortunately, I'm not here as a customer."

A cough drew their attention back to the group, and another man who was approaching. Watanuki felt a sudden shiver go down his back.

"Customer or not, it would be rude to keep you standing in the doorway," he offered in pacifying tones, and Watanuki could have sworn his glasses _shone_ at them – and not in a friendly way.

"Of course, something to drink!" the blond suddenly enthused, and then dragged Haruhi (and by association Watanuki) over to a table. "I am Tamaki, head of this charming establishment, this is Kyouya, and those gentlemen over there are Hikaru, Kaoru, Honey and Mori," he introduced quickly, pointing to each one. "Is there something we can get you, princess?" he asked, acting in complete opposition to his earlier words.

"Whatever you think best," Haruhi said after a pause, and within minutes the two twins, Kaoru and Hikaru, were setting out beautiful cups and plates. A shorter blond, who Watanuki had first mistaken as a child, sidled up to them.

"Do you like cake?" he asked, eyes wide and curious. Watanuki almost relaxed at the innocence radiating from him, but then he happened to meet Haruhi's gaze over the table, and her mouth narrowed.

"I like strawberry," she told the boy, and his eyes widened with sudden delight.

"Yay!" he exclaimed, and darted off. Haruhi sighed.

"Is there something we can do for you?" came a deep voice – the man Tamaki had called Kyouya - and this time Watanuki didn't miss the suspicion in the tone.

"Yes, actually," Haruhi said as the shortest came tripping back out with what looked like a giant slice of pink cake. "I would appreciate it if you would move on from this world."

* * *

*I stole the title from the movie of the same name (Japanese). The movie deals with how the Japanese treat their dead, and their departure from this world.


	68. Hitsuzen: Crash 84

Crash

Watanuki wasn't sure how he had escaped so far without being injured, as the tallest and the shortest men were emanating very threatening auras, the twins looking furious, the blond from earlier throwing china every direction, and the bespectacled man glaring with more power than Watanuki considered safe.

Haruhi seemed to take all these reactions in stride, and sipped her tea.

When she had answered the man called Kyouya about why she thought they were capable of doing such a thing as 'moving on from this world', she had given him a _Look_ similar to those Watanuki had seen Yuuko use on the clients with lying problems.

It said something along the lines of 'perhaps-you-can-try-to-fool-yourself-but-I'm-not-stupid-so-don't-waste-my-time.'

After a staring contest seemed imminent, the raven-haired man seemed to give up (to Watanuki's private amazement. Haruhi didn't seem to be in Yuuko's league).

"Why don't we have this conversation at a more private table?" he suggested as beautiful china smashed in the background, and after glancing at the other men, Haruhi nodded. "And if I am allowed to ask your names…?"

"Haruhi," the woman in question replied succinctly. At the arched eyebrow, Watanuki bowed politely- quickly- and gave his own name.

"Tamaki, why don't you change the sign? It's almost time to open," Kyouya-san reminded the blond, who seemed to be having trouble keeping his feet on the floor in his distressed reaction to Haruhi's words. Watanuki inched closer to the woman.

"Ah! That's right," Tamaki said, looking to the clock on the wall. "it's nearly two o'clock." With the reminder, he seemed to forget Haruhi-san's strange request and sailed out the door, presumably to open the gates. The other four seemed to accept their leader's careless attitude and went to work straightening table linens and setting out cups and silverware. The three moved to a table almost hidden in the back corner.

Kyouya cleared his throat as they took seats. "Might I ask," he began, tilting his head in Haruhi's direction, "what you have come here for? _Other_ than to see us… gone."

Haruhi considered his question, and returned one. "Do you mean, why am I asking you to leave?"

He nodded, face calm, but calculation brewed behind his eyes.

"We've had a few complaints," Haruhi explained, in what Watanuki figured she must think was a reasonable tone. "A few of our clients' daughters went missing for longer than two or three hours at a time."

A small wince broke that calm, and then the face was serene as glass again.

"Ah," he responded. "That would likely be Tamaki's... friendly nature."

Haruhi sighed. "Friendly nature or otherwise, you are not, by all rights, supposed to be lingering in the human world." She glanced around, one eyebrow raised. "And of all places, you chose a _tea_ house?"

Kyouya had nothing to say to that. It had, in fact, been one of his arguments against Tamaki's "Grand Plan."

"You are not a shinigami," Kyouya observed, though it wasn't a lack of scythe that brought him to that conclusion.

"No, I'm not," she agreed easily. Inside, Watanuki let out a sigh of relief. His guess was that a real shinigami would be just as eager as the demons seemed to be about getting a taste of him.

"We haven't seen one yet," Kyouya informed them, sitting back with a distinct lessening of the tension. "I've wondered if our deaths were, perhaps, not planned – hence the lack of previous interference. I had realized that... well. We're not where we should be."

"I don't know anything concerning your deaths," Haruhi confessed with what Watanuki thought was a decided lack of delicacy. "That's not something they think to tell us about."

"So you are here because of a complaint?" Kyouya inquired, still lacking the information he wanted.

"Multiple complaints, actually," Haruhi began, but the bell above the front door chimed, taking her and Watanuki's sudden attention.

A woman dressed in black, with long, straight black hair walked in, looking about her with interest.

Tamaki materialized before her, bowing.

"Welcome to our humble establishment, mademoiselle."

Watanuki rolled his eyes, and began to turn back to Kyouya, when a familiar and unwelcome stench reached his nose.

"Thank you, young sir," the woman was saying, and her face should have been pleasantly smiling, except Watanuki could now see the roiling black aura surrounding her.

"Haru-"

A tight grasp on his hand caused his mouth to snap shut, as he felt the command of '**_Quiet!_**_'_ reverberate through his mind.

"Stay in your seat," Haruhi said in a commanding undertone, and Watanuki's wide eyes left the woman with a shadow and fixed on her. So did Kyouya's, who took in her tense shoulders and drew closer.

Haruhi was gritting her teeth and staring at the table cloth. Watanuki had a good idea she wasn't really looking at it, though.

"If you move, I won't be able to help you," she explained quickly. "I'm not very good at this sort of thing."

Whatever was happening, Watanuki thought, they _couldn't_ just continue sitting there.

Tamaki was beginning to look dazed - no longer just dazzling.

"Why don't you come with me, sweetheart," the woman suggested, face seeming to flicker between human and something else. Her tone was cajoling and persuasive, and yet her look was that of a hungry and triumphant predator.

Watanuki gulped. Her skin was flickering away from human.

He would later credit it to idiocy, but at the time, he couldn't bear to see another person being drawn to whatever that evil thing was, even a ghost. He jumped up, planning to run and tackle the other boy, but stopped short when the woman's head snapped around the instant he left his seat.

"Oooh," she purred, eyes widening and then becoming entirely inhuman. "And what have _you_ been doing, hiding over there?" she asked, and Watanuki couldn't scream, because he couldn't breathe.

"Stay away from him," Haruhi said from behind him, and stood herself, no longer needing to hold up the barrier the boy had rushed out of. It was pointless, after all, to conceal herself and another ghost. The dark-haired woman hissed, her eyes becoming slits.

"What is something like _you_ doing here?" she asked, looking quite ready to attack the smaller woman in order to win all her prey.

"The better question is, what are you doing out of jail?" Haruhi asked, and Watanuki's heart sank to the floor.

_Great, _he thought,_ now **spiritual** criminals are loose_. Was he never going to be safe?

Another hiss was the response, and then she was flying, _oh god,_ towards them.

"Get down!" Haruhi yelled, and Watanuki had a moment to think, _if only I could_, when he was hit in the back, his knees buckling from the shock and weight. He went down, shrieking only in his own mind as a body no longer human but insect-like soared over, missing him by inches.

"Get up," Haruhi said, and Watanuki was opening his mouth to say "I can't" when he found he could. "_Run._"

He had no problem with that idea, as running was his personal specialty, but the room was small now that panic had taken over, and though the woman, now a huge black moth, had gotten caught in the drapes when she had missed him on her first lunge, she was fighting her way free and hissing like a livid snake.

Watanuki avoided her eyes, certain he wouldn't be able to move again should he get caught in her stare, and tried to decide which table looked sturdiest.

The six men – ghosts – were either gathering up china to throw at the moth, or trying to pull Tamaki out of his daze.

Kyouya floated - _floated? _Watanuki blinked, hoping to clear his eyes – over to them, face strained.

"What should we do?" he asked Haruhi.

"Do you have any bug spray?" she asked, and both men gave her strange looks. "Just asking," she said in response, and rubbed her temple. "I never signed on for this kind of work," she muttered.

For a moment, Watanuki was terrified that she would disappear, and his one connection with the real world (and the chance to return) would be gone too.

"First time for everything," she decided quickly, yanking the tablecloth off a table, causing china to crash and break on the floor.

"Try to make some ropes or weapons, or something," she suggested, yanking another pristine cloth with a crash and tying a corner of it to the first.

With a piercing screech the moth-woman was free and flying towards them.

With more precision than skill, Haruhi whipped her quick rope up around the thing's face.

A rope would have, perhaps, caught her around the neck, but the tablecloth billowed, and though loose, succeeded in blinding the moth. She veered off to the left, crashing into a cabinet.

The twins had been inspired by Haruhi's destruction of the tea things, and were breaking their collected plates and cups into sharp bits, handing them over to Honey and Mori to throw.

It was done with an elegance Watanuki would have found ridiculous, if not for the fear overtaking him.

Because despite the collision and the china piercing her wings, she seemed to be growing stronger.

Her focus redirected, she flew towards the china-throwers.

Honey leapt to meet her, kicking into her chest with a deep bellow. After landing the first time and then taking off with a punch, Honey did not return to the ground.

He remained floating mid-air, instead.

Mori joined him soon after, grabbing the end of one wing and using it to swing her around in a circle.

The moth seemed unable to deal with both of them, trying to figure out which she should attack first. Finally, she decided on Honey, who was both annoying and painful. White gossamer strands shot from her mouth, wrapping around the surprised boy. Mori let go, and she flew off. Honey fell into Mori's arms, but the rescue turned into a trap as they found the sticky strands stuck to them both.

Seeing the success of her attack, the moth turned the webbing onto the twins, halting the barrage of china pieces and adhering them the floor.

Tamaki was beginning to come around, and she seemed to realize it was her chance to take a 'bite' before he could defend himself.

Picking up his limp body, she began gnawing at his spirit. At the first unearthly scream, Watanuki and Kyouya went racing towards her, leaving Haruhi to mutter after them about idiots and folly.

In moments, Watanuki realized the stupidity of running forward with nothing more dangerous than a teacup and a tablecloth in hand. The moth's sharp teeth were now headed towards _him._

Kyouya dragged Tamaki away as quickly as he could, which had, Watanuki reminded himself, been the point, but for once, he was wishing Yuuko had volunteered that huge id-

"Oi."


	69. Hitsuzen: Death 13

Death and Taxes

Watanuki whipped around.

Of course.

Doumeki was standing a few feet inside the doorway, staring at them all with his usual idiotic expression.

No, Watanuki thought, there was a bit of a frown at one side of his mouth.

He noticed Doumeki's bow, and breathed a sigh of relief. As much as he hated to owe the archer, he couldn't deny that it was... nice... _sometimes_... to have someone who could occasionally step in and salvage things.

Like now.

Except...

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Watanuki screeched.

Doumeki was headed straight for him, either unaware or unconcerned with the large demon beside him.

"_Who_ are _you_," the moth hissed, annoyed at yet another interruption.

"Huh," was Doumeki's reply as he pulled his bow up.

As though sensing the danger of his weapon, the moth flew backwards, dragging Watanuki along.

A pair of golden eyes narrowed slightly, and then the bow came up and he fired a shot.

The spirit dodged it with an outraged shriek, and the spirit arrow flew by Mori-san.

Watanuki looked back to see that Mori's shape had begun to blur, as though the arrow had dragged at his existence as it went by.

"Don't shoot them!" he yelled quickly to the other boy, who only raised an eyebrow. "The ghosts!" Watanuki added, trying to crawl away from them and hoping the moth would follow him out of range of the others.

The archer had moved to avoid the spirit's grasping arms, and was now by the twins.

He glared at Watanuki.

"I can't see them. Idiot."

For a moment Watanuki didn't understand - and then he used his resulting indignation to make sure they were sharing his right eye's sight, and kept his focus on the area around Doumeki.

It was perhaps the most awkward of battles, as Doumeki had to navigate according to what he saw of his surroundings from Watanuki's perspective, and also had to watch where his arrows would fly in case the spirit dodged them. This meant that several minutes were spent running and dodging and knocking over furniture as those able to move did.

The frown on Doumeki's face grew the longer this went on, until he abruptly stepped _through_ Kyouya, catching the spirit off guard on one of her turns. With the few seconds of opportunity this afforded, he brought up his bow and the shot flew true: the spirit arrow went straight through the moth's neck.

With a scream she arched back, and then dissolved as every other demon had from Doumeki's arrows.

"How?" Watanuki whispered, and then a rough hand was pulling him upright.

"I can see them," Doumeki said, and for a moment Watanuki thought he really could – until the big oaf almost stuck a finger into Watanuki's right eye.

"Don't do that!" Watanuki snapped, all the fear and terror of a moment before turning instantly into righteous fury.

A slap drew their attention to the ghosts and stopped the other insults Watanuki had ready. A red handprint was beginning to show on the blonde's face, and Kyouya was getting ready to pour a pot of tea (who knew how it had avoided being destroyed) over his head.

"That's not necessary," Haruhi hastily intervened, coming over to help out.

"Is he alright?" Watanuki asked, concern replacing all other less comfortable emotions.

"He'll be fine," came an assured, booming reply from the doorway. They all turned; Tamaki twitched.

"Yuuko!"

The time witch grinned at him

Predictably, Watanuki's temper blew a fuse, and he sat up to scream at her, flailing as he went, and knocked over the teacup Haruhi had been carrying over.

They both looked at the spreading brown stain on the carpet, and both sighed.

"Let me get you another," the spirit said, and walked back over to the group of boys.

Watanuki coughed, realizing that his throat felt raw and torn. A shudder ran through him at the thought of the damage the moth _could _have done, had she reached more of his body.

Before he could fully visualize the horror and pain he'd narrowly missed, Haruhi was back, pressing another steaming cup - into his hands this time.

"It should start the healing process," she told him. "I'm a little better at healing than at barriers."

She stretched out her hands and shook them, as though loosening the joints. The lines between her brows cleared; she looked up at Doumeki with interest.

"You're quite convenient," she commented, and turned to survey the huddled ghosts. "I wonder… But no."

Behind her, Yuuko chuckled.

Watanuki sipped at his tea before trying to speak to his employer, and nearly cried with relief as his throat seemed to heal as the tea touched the injured areas. He burned his tongue swallowing the rest, but it was worth it to feel relatively normal.

If he couldn't yell at Doumeki, he'd have no way of dealing with the idiot's timely interference.

Haruhi approached the transparent group of young men and tapped one – a twin – on the shoulder. As a group they turned to look at her, various emotions displayed or hidden in their faces.

"I think this little incident demonstrates why it would be better for you to move on," she began rationally. "If you stick around here much longer, you'll have others coming after you, or worse, you could turn into one of them."

"A-_hem_." Yuuko smiled at them all cheerfully. "I almost forgot that _I_ needed to stop by here! Fuuma-san told me about this tea house days ago."

_How likely is it that you "forgot," _Watanuki wondered to himself, but wisely kept his big mouth shut.

Haruhi looked mildly annoyed, and then resigned.

"Am I going to have to pay for this too?" she asked, addressing the ceiling somewhat disconsolately.

Yuuko laughed – the laugh that meant she really _was_ amused.

Watanuki tried to inch behind Doumeki.

"You've already paid your price, Haruhi-kun. This time, _they_ will have to pay something."

Yuuko met a calculating set of gray eyes, and smiled widely. "After all, _every_ wish has a price."

Kyouya smiled back at her.

"A price, you say? Why don't we talk a little business, then."


	70. Hitsuzen: Survive 58

Survival

Watanuki was trying _not _to pay attention to the bargaining being done by his employer, but that meant that his attention instead was fixed on Haruhi-san, and Doumeki.

Haruhi was pouring water over her hands in what Watanuki assumed must be a cleansing ritual.

"I have a little power to heal souls. It is merely a variation of what I do in my official capacity."

Watanuki wondered if he should even venture to ask what capacity _that_ would be.

Haruhi glanced now at Doumeki, a hint of interest sparking in her eyes. Watanuki wondered for a brief moment at the reactions of different spirits to Doumeki, and then Haruhi diverted his train of thought when she poked the taller boy in the shoulder, as though testing his existence.

"Interesting," she repeated, and that seemed to be her final analysis; her attention went back to the ghosts.

"You're been taking the souls of the girls who come in here for two weeks now; what have you done with them?"

The reactions to this announcement were mixed. Honey-san looked confused, Mori-san impassive, but Tamaki and the twins looked a bit guilty. One of the twins finally stepped forward, taking on the responsibility of explaining.

"I think you must mean the shining spheres they leave behind on their chairs; we've been putting them in the storage room, since Tamaki thought they were too pretty to throw away."

Haruhi looked relieved.

"Show me, please." She glanced at the tall blond. "If you _had_ thrown them out, I would've sent you to the Court of Destruction. Hopefully I can return the souls to the girls, and we can process the usual paperwork."

"I don't think the usual paperwork will work with these particular souls anymore," Yuko interrupted.

Haruhi glared at the Dimension Witch.

"I should have asked for Anka's instructions to be more specific," the spirit retorted, "_'No interference with official business_' would have covered it nicely." She glared again, then gave up trying to argue with the witch. "Do you know how long the paperwork for this kind of thing will take!"

With a sharp turn, she transferred her glare to Kyouya-san.

"The extra work will be put on _your_ tab," she informed him, and seemed to re-gather herself. "Very well, if that's the case, we should get started," she said, motioning for him to join the others. "I'll return the other souls after delivering you to Anka."

The ghosts crowded together, talking amongst themselves.

"Do any of them need to speak with you before we leave?" she asked Yuko. The witch shook her head, her smug smile lingering.

"Their payment is already set up."

Haruhi gave a business-like nod, and herded the ghosts into an open portion of the room. Even though Yuko often did things that hinted at her power, her knowing gaze stopped him short of actually _commenting_ on it, for fear of swelling her already superior attitude.

But Haruhi's power seemed such a natural extension of her that he could watch in awe easily, without being disturbed that it might have adverse effects on him. Her straight hair lifted off her back and drifted in an invisible breeze created by the shifting ripples of power that coalesced on the ground. Her eyes, so straight forward before, now softened, and her gaze went _beyond_. The dress Yuko had forced on her billowed around her legs.

When she raised her hands, Watanuki could _see_ the power rising from the ground to surround the ghosts' feet in a circle. Her power was gentler than Yuko's - not as overwhelming. But he supposed it was natural to be drawn to those who had the power to heal. There was no doubt that Yuko's power to grant wishes was balanced by her inability to make peoples' lives better through those wishes.

Watanuki thought of all the destruction he had witnessed because of careless wishes, and suddenly wondered if his contract could be renegotiated, if Haruhi took an interest in him. A small blue ring glinted on her finger when she lifted a hand flat out in front of herself, and a wind seemed to flow out of it and around all the ghosts.

"A nice piece of magic," Yuko commented. Haruhi returned her level gaze.

"You could always lend a hand for all the complications you've caused," she suggested, in a tone that implied she didn't really expect it. But Yuko's magic circle formed under them, an echo of Haruhi's glowing one.

_"Disperse."_

With a soundless crack, the ghosts disappeared.

"Thank you." Haruhi bowed, and faded away in mere moments.

Doumeki headed for the door.

"Somen and fried yaki soba."

The peaceful feeling inside Watanuki evaporated.

"I AM _NOT_ your personal servant!"

Yuko cackled with glee. Watanuki drooped, and then gave a distraught wail.

Just like that, things were back to normal.


	71. Hitsuzen: Dark 27

Dark

_Definition: not clear to the understanding; utter or virtual lack of illumination_

The afterlife is not a place of fun and games.

Yuuko scares the daylights out of Watanuki when she finally gets around to explaining what kind of spirit Haruhi-kun is, and what her job _really_ entails.

Watanuki _almost_ wishes the knowledge unknown, but too many of his memories are already missing; besides, who knows what worse horror Yuuko will inflict on him as payment.

Still, Watanuki has to use every resource he has not to scream like a girl when the black-haired, glasses-wearing ghost shows up with a delivery of his payment. He nods politely to Watanuki, and slips off black shoes before stepping into the shop.

The girls smile as they usually do at him while Watanuki tries to remember whether the boy (Kyo-something?) has always had pitch black eyes.

Yuuko sends him off to the kitchen to get snacks for 'her guest,' and Watanuki barely makes the requisite grumbles while he escapes.

Two weeks later he arrives at the shop to find Kyouya-san already there drinking tea, alone. Yuuko has gone to the store room to fetch something for Haruhi, in return for a favor that's technically "against the rules."

It disturbs Watanuki to hear the satisfaction in the ex-ghost's voice as he explains this.

When Yuuko returns, Watanuki can't look at what she carries without feeling sick and dizzy; he's thankful that Kyouya disappears with it into Yuuko's creepy dimension hole soon afterwards, and actually manages to reign in his curiosity about this particular transaction.

After that, Kyouya-san is an irregular customer, usually arriving with business from Haruhi-kun. He still causes a chill to run up Watanuki's spine every time he arrives; ghosts belong in the afterlife, _not_ running errands between dimensions.

When Watanuki arrives at the shop loaded down with groceries and sake to find Fuuma-san in the sitting room, he can't help but eye the giant, looking for some hint that he's another ghost or spirit out of his proper setting.

Unfortunately, Fuuma takes his close observation as an invitation to flirt, and Watanuki retreats to the storeroom to dust. He's not sure if his cheeks are burning more from Yuuko's laughter or Fuuma's comments.

So a month later when he spots Haruhi-kun standing outside Yuuko's gate, it's almost a relief. At least _she _had harbored some sympathy for his plight on their last meeting, and had helped heal him afterwards. Never mind how terrifying she _should_ be, a cute young woman was much less threatening, to his mind.

"Good afternoon!"

Her head whips around, brown eyes sharp until she recognizes him.

"Watanuki-san. How propitious."

She eyes the gate with misgiving.

"The shop doesn't want to let me in. You wouldn't happen to know why…?"

Watanuki looks through the gate at the usual store-front and wonders why he never calls in sick to work.

"Well, never mind. I'll just take your arm, shall I?"

Without _forcing_ him, yet directing his feet all the same, she causes him to walk through the gate, and follows half a second behind.

He doesn't dare to comment on the brief look of triumph that crosses her face.

"Wasn't there an easier way?" he can't help but ask instead. "I mean, you're… you're…"

He blinks in confusion, as the words he _wants _to say refuse to come out.

Haruhi pats his arm in what she probably thinks is a consoling manner.

"There are rules about speaking our nature aloud. If you try too hard to do so, you'll strain something."

"But Yuuko…!"

Haruhi nods, looking aggrieved. The shop door swings open, as if to underscore Yuuko's inexplicable power.

"That woman's power exists, just barely, in my original world. That's why _she _can say it. If Father knew she was chatting our true nature, he'd be paying his own visit, no doubt."

Haruhi spares a smile for the girls and leads the way through the shop.

"I can't imagine a worse combination than my Father and your Yuuko-san."

Watanuki doesn't try to consider what a spirit of Haruhi's caliber would consider 'worse.' Instead, he tries not to think about what kind of spirit could father Haruhi.

* * *

A/N: Um, this theme is for you readers. Cause you're probably in the dark with this arc, and I doubt much clarification will be forthcoming. Haruhi enjoys being mysterious, apparently.


	72. Hitsuzen: Elevate 78

Elevated Status

Kyouya had never considered what life would be like _after_ life while he'd still be living; an oversight on his part, to be sure.

He had fallen victim to the lie of youth: that you had years to prepare for death.

Despite the lack of planning, though, he'd been able to bargain quite sufficiently with the time witch for a unique existence in the afterworld, both for himself and the others.

Of course, as Haruhi had pointed out, _because_ of his bargaining, she'd had more work tacked on to their cases, and Kyouya had been her appointed scapegoat. Not that he particularly minded.

A trickle of sweat dripped into his right eye, reminding him that _most_ of the time he didn't mind.

This particular world wasn't to his taste - too hot and too barren, as well as extremely inhospitable to humans. Even former humans.

At least he wouldn't have to track down the requisite item himself; he couldn't imagine what hunting sand eels entailed, and might have chosen the consequences of failure rather than have to figure it out.

Haruhi, reading off Yuuko's latest request, had furnished him with one of the many pebbles on her desk, as well as the name of a Sand Chieftain.

Kyouya had figured out a while ago the mystery of the stones: they were all colors, shapes and textures, and were all originally from different worlds. Different dimensions, Haruhi would undoubtedly correct him.

The spirits who worked for Haruhi used them as a kind of magical shortcut to travel between dimensions, and as her personal assistant, Kyouya was allowed to borrow stones from her personal collection.

Of course, her errands were never quite so easy once he arrived.

The stones could only do so much. He had to locate the people or existences himself once he had arrived, and occasionally he had to locate something of value to convince the other party to do what had been requested.

This time it had been easy. The people of the town he'd landed in were always talking of the pure forest spring water; he had bought a large ewer at the market and found an adventurer eager to take him to the forest, for the right price. Then it was merely a matter of locating the right Chieftain and trading the water for two large sand eels.

He gave surprisingly sincere thanks to the Chieftain's wife, who had thought to wrap the slimy things in some dried animal hide.

Kyouya would not have happily carried the things in his bare hands, while trying to travel, as well.

He gripped the stone that hung around his neck, and after a bit of the world going flat and too wide, he found himself on Ichihara-san's back porch.

With his free hand he knocked on the wooden shoji, and then slid it aside.

Yuko looked up languidly, but blinked off the mask at the sight of the package.

"Is that unagi?" she asked, leaning across the chair towards him.

Maru and Moro burst in before he could give the obvious answer, and he handed the package to them quickly.

"Do you have my compensation?"

Yuko gave him an amused look.

"Of course. _Watanuki_!"

The skinny boy flung himself into the room moments later, a thundering scowl on his face.

"What _now?_"

Then he caught sight of Kyouya, and gulped nervously.

Kyouya smiled pleasantly at him.

Watanuki took a step back.

Before the spirit-cursed boy could react any further (or _run_ any farther), Maru and Moro pressed the package into his hands.

"Food, Watanuki!"

"Food, Watanuki!"

"How much longer, Watanuki?" the time witch asked provocatively.

The scowl reappeared, and Watanuki stalked out, grumbling something about slave drivers.

"Maru, Moro, please fetch the bowls from earlier."

The girls ran out and Yuko gestured towards the low table.

"Go ahead and have some tea. It will take Watanuki a little while to finish up his part of the package."

She reached into one sleeve and pulled out a slender tube covered in swirling silver patterns.

"This is _your_ payment for the favor; open it when you return."

Moro sprinted in with a large brown wrapped package above her head, followed by Maru who was holding a small box wrapped in a green furoshiki.

Kyouya gathered all three items together and focused on a familiar office - and slide back into place in front of Haruhi's desk.

She glanced up, but didn't stop filling out the form in her hand.

"Just set the big one down over there. The water should be ready soon."

Kyouya lifted one eyebrow in question, but Haruhi was sorting papers to the side and didn't see it.

A kettle whistled in the next room, and he walked through to take it off the small fire.

The silver tube and the green package were set onto the tatami mats so that he could pour the boiling water into a waiting pot. Haruhi had already added a few scoops of tea leaves to the bottom.

"Time for lunch?" he asked upon hearing her footsteps.

She sat down next to him and unwrapped the furoshiki, revealing a lacquered bento box.

"Not lunch, just a treat," she corrected, and offered a pair of chopsticks. A faded outline detached itself from the wall and took a place at the low table.

Chewing away at an admittedly tasty bit of unagisushi, he still wondered if all that effort was worth a tiny box of food.

A nearly inaudible sigh preceded a sudden burst of wind, signaling the ghost's exit.

By now, Kyouya barely paid attention to Haruhi's clients, except to feel temporary relief that his job was done - for now.

"What did the witch give you?" Haruhi asked, and he picked up his payment, feeling interest stir.

It was safe to open it now, per the witch's instructions.

He twisted the top and it came off easily; a slip of paper had been rolled into the tube.

Kyouya pulled it out and spread it on the table; instead of paper, it was a very thin fabric that glinted with silver thread that had been woven throughout.

Black curving kanji decorated it: a list of names he thought he recognized.

After a moment, he realized they were a listing of dimensions he had visited. When Haruhi tapped the fabric, it suddenly changed to a floating grid that made no sense to his previous human experience, but somehow he could still make sense of the layers of information that hovered over the fabric.

Curious if it would return to being flat, he tapped the fabric in the same manner she had. The patterns and information collapsed back into shining symbols.

Haruhi looked impressed.

"Those are complex bits of magic holding it together," she said. "Ichihara-san must like unagi-sushi as much as our visitor did."


	73. Mafia: Criminal 16

A/N: Keep in mind that this scene is from Kyouya's point of view.

Criminal Masterminds

Kyouya glanced down at the slip of paper, checking one last time that the address was correct.

Number 258; looked like this was it. He straightened his tie out of habit, and relaxed his face into a smile before knocking firmly on the door.

From what he had heard of the mediator, the man preferred gentility and being... wooed... so to speak. It took cunning to get his services, which was why Kyouya had come, instead of one of the less experienced men.

Footsteps echoed inside; Kyouya gave an unconsciously self-assured smile at the peephole.

After a second, the door swung open.

_Young, _was his first thought, but it didn't show on his face. Instead he continued smiling.

"Is this the residence of Fujitaka?"

For a disconcerting moment, Kyouya thought the young man was going to say no, until an irritated look crossed his features, and he motioned Kyouya inside.

"I suppose it is. Wait a minute, please."

Kyouya followed him down the hall to a small dining room, and moved to look out the window there as the younger man left, presumably to get Fujitaka.

Stairs creaked farther in the apartment, and Kyouya noted the larger home. For a single man, Fujitaka had quite a spacious apartment.

Running footsteps prepared him, and when Fujitaka entered the room, Kyouya was smiling again.

Experience was important, he thought as a _woman_ swung through the door.

"Oh! What a surprise!" she said, and Kyouya silently agreed. Fujitaka _was _a man. A man who happened to also be a cross-dresser.

From under long lashes, Fujitaka's glance took in everything about Kyouya: the suit, the small briefcase at his side, the smile, and finally the intelligence behind small, wire-framed glasses.

"Ootori-san. I hadn't realized I was due such an honor," Fujitaka said, and his eyes were a calm incongruity far removed from the question latent in his words.

Kyouya gave a small bow of respect.

"If you would be so kind as to address me as Kyouya, Fujitaka-san," he requested smoothly, and Fujitaka gave a twinkling laugh.

"Of course, of course. And please, you must sit," he said, and pulled out a chair, falling gracefully (if not dramatically) into the one across from him.

"Haruhi! Tea please!" he shouted towards the hall, and measured footsteps could be heard from the stairs.

A moment later "Haruhi's" head emerged around the doorway, looking annoyed.

"Is it that hard to warm water?" he asked, and sighed when the not-a-housewife looking he-she pouted. "_Fine_."

Kyouya withdrew a few papers and slid them across the table.

"I'm afraid a small situation has cropped up with the Minuti group. We were hoping you would be available to mediate a contract for us," Kyouya said, then sat back and waited while the keen eyes read over the papers.

"Hm," Fujitaka said a minute later, glancing up at Kyouya with unreadable eyes. "This is quite a generous offer you're making me. Is it as dangerous as the pay indicates?"

For a moment, Kyouya allowed his surprise to show. Then he returned to smiling.

"No, the pay reflects your exalted position and reputation. We merely want this solved with as little fuss as possible. You must admit to having a reputation for peaceful settlings."

Haruhi appeared with the tea, with little to no interest in either man until Fujitaka murmured, "I'm quite tempted…"

Suddenly, the young man, looking both harried and furious, grabbed the papers up, and read over them at a glance.

"You said you were going to quit doing this!" he yelled, and Kyouya blinked in surprise.

Fujitaka was pouting again.

"But Ha-ruu-hi," he whined in quite the pathetic fashion, "we need money to eat, you know."

Something like a twitch appeared in the young man's forehead.

"I make enough for rent and food, as you know _very _well. There's no reason to go back to crime to feed your _ego_," he retorted.

Now Fujitaka was getting close to tears, an effort Kyouya could hardly approve of as a man, but was willing to watch for the sake of results.

The slam of a hand on the table brought his attention sharply back to this "Haruhi" fellow.

"_No_. Absolutely not. I'll move out if you dare take this job," Haruhi said, and one black brow rose.

So, Fujitaka wasn't just a cross-dresser, but gay into the bargain; it was nothing Kyouya hadn't heard rumors of, but a pedophile as well? He glanced at the petite young man, who was wearing baggy, well, everything, and thick glasses partially hidden by shaggy bangs.

Fujitaka's pout turned into a frown, and the eyes with that hidden intelligence sharpened. Kyouya straightened, curious if the outcome to the argument would indeed affect his own business.

"Haruhi! How can you say such things to your father? You're the most inconsiderate daughter to plague your daddy! Don't you ever think about _my _feelings, _my _…"

Kyouya's world cracked and tilted, just a little bit. He didn't hear another word coming from Fujitaka's mouth, but turned instead his full attention to the sad excuse for a girl.

"Fujitaka Haruhi?" he asked, thinking to make her acquaintance, but gained instead a scowl.

"_Fujioka _Haruhi," she corrected him, and a groan emerged from the other side of the table. "And yes, this is _Fujioka _Ryoji, not whatever alias he's going by today. Dad, I told you to retire. How come you never listen to me?" the groan dragged into a whimper.

Kyouya cleared his throat, his goal momentarily wavering in light of these revelations. He had assumed Fujitaka was a pseudonym, but hadn't been able to find anything of his real life or identity before. To be handed such information on a platter, by the man's previously unknown daughter…

Kyouya smiled widely, which would have been warning for anyone who knew him well.

"You are not going to take this job, Dad. I'm not paying for another hospital bill we can't explain to the insurance company," Haruhi was continuing, her father looking beaten.

"I didn't mean for that last one to trouble you, Haruhi," he tried, but gave up at her disbelieving snort.

"Excuse me," Kyouya broke in, gray eyes smiling into dark brown ones. "If I could offer a suggestion? Fujioka-kun could probably handle this just as well as you could, Fujitaka-san."

There was silence for a few tense moments, before Haruhi reached out and tore up the papers on the table.

"I don't really care who you are, or which mob you're working for, but -"

"Mafia, really," Kyouya corrected politely.

"_But, _I am a lawyer. A _law abiding_ and _law enforcing_ lawyer."

Kyouya merely looked at her. If the information was meant to impress, he was sufficiently impressed, at least at the fact that someone like Fujitaka could produce a straight-laced and stoic offspring like this one.

His silence seemed to annoy her, though, and she pushed her bangs to the side in irritation. Another brow rose, this time in a surprise Kyouya couldn't hide.

With those bangs out of the way, Fujioka Haruhi was attractive. And older than he had previously assumed, though 'lawyer' obviously indicated a certain amount of schooling.

"So, you can find your own way out," she ended, and Kyouya noted that she had a good speaking voice, probably used to speaking in court for hours on end.

"I'll come back with papers for you tomorrow," he informed her, and gave a slight bow to Fujitaka, who was looking bemused. The eyes were still sharp, however, and Kyouya took sufficient note of the way he was considering him.

Fujioka Haruhi's face looked both sour and resolute.

Before another speech on right and wrong and justice came spilling out, Kyouya slipped down the hallway and out the door.

This would be worth the extra day spent cajoling his father for a new contract, he thought, as a car with blackened windows picked him up.


	74. Mafia: Succeed 28

Success

At first, she thought he had hired a thug to kidnap her – thereby proving her analysis of his character.

But then a tiny boy appeared by the man, crying.

"I'm sorry, Takashi," he sobbed, clutching at the man's jacket. "If I was stronger, _I _could have gotten her."

Haruhi gave a deep sigh, wondering which strange dimension she had fallen into now. When she was dumped into the back seat of a black limousine, a pair of wireframe glasses twinkled at her.

_Ah yes... _she thought, feeling the car start to move. _Hell. _

* * *

"Scrappy," was the right one's analysis.

"Rough," was the left's. They leaned forward, peering at her.

"I thought he was supposed to be an excellent dresser," Right pouted. Left hung off his shoulder, giving a quizzical look to the man in charge.

Haruhi did the same, though she was beginning to doubt that anything would get her an answer from that quarter.

"I've recruited Fujitaka's apprentice," Kyouya said smoothly. "Carry on as you usually would."

"Ah," he added a moment later, "These two are Kaoru and Hikaru Hitachiin."

Haruhi, however, barely heard him, for she was too busy protesting as the twins pounced.

"What do you think you're doing?" Haruhi asked, pushing two pairs of hands away with surprising force; then again, she'd never needed to defend herself in such a way before. She scrambled to the opposite side of the seat, which was only possible because they had stopped in surprise.

The men who were mirrors images of each other gave her identical looks of confusion, then turned back to the head of this operation.

"You said he was Fujitaka's successor!" Kaoru objected, crossing his arms.

"Not a _girl,_" Hikaru clarified. Haruhi's brow ticked ominously.

"It's not my fault if you can't observe these things yourselves," Kyouya said, and the twins exchanged a look.

"Kyouya-san," Kaoru said carefully, "just what game are you trying to play here?"

Kyouya looked at him seriously, shutting his folder with a neat flick of the wrist.

"No games," he responded. "We only have fifteen minutes. She'll need to look professional."

Another glance was exchanged, then a sigh, and then Haruhi was attacked again, albeit a bit more gently.

"I can change my own shirt!" she protested, and Kaoru gladly let go. "Aren't you famous or something? I've seen you on magazine covers, right?" she asked, recognizing their features enough to remember the images she glanced over while grocery shopping. She gave them critical looks. "Are you in debt to the mafia, or something?"

"No!" they shouted in unison, looking quite insulted. "We're just helping out."

Haruhi's thoughts on that were muffled as her sweater was pulled off.

"Um, Takashi?" came a small voice from the front. "Should you be watching them?"

The twins snickered as the tall, silent man turned beet red.

Haruhi pretended not to notice and buttoned up the dress shirt handed to her, wondering why she was doing this with so little protest.

_The police are too far away,_ she reminded herself. _Just get through this..._

Half an hour later, she was sitting in front of a sweating older man who looked more scared of Kyouya Ootori than her father was of roaches. She did, however, understand now the point of her presence.

At least, she thought she did.

"This looks pretty good, actually," she muttered, surprised by the almost even trade-off on the contract Kyouya-san had provided.

The older man blinked. "Really?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

Haruhi sighed to herself; perhaps she was supposed to be protecting _his_ interests, as well? She glanced to the side. In view of the other choice, she certainly felt that protecting this man was her moral responsibility. But this was _all_ immoral... so her judgment was uncertain.

"You're very good at looking over this kind of thing," Kyouya commented quietly, and the other man looked even more relieved; Haruhi was both suspicious and concerned about the fact that he had apparently complimented her abilities.

"Okay then," the older man suddenly said. "I'll sign. You've been quite magnanimous so far, and if the little lady says it's fair, I'll add my name to your side."

"The Family thanks you," Kyouya said, smiling the docile smile that was quite unnerving to her, and the other man beamed at them both.

"It's been a pleasure, Fujitaka-san," he said in farewell, pumping her hand enthusiastically.

Haruhi merely nodded. What could she say? She didn't even understand what had just happened.

"We'll give you a ride home," Kyouya said, but she noticed it wasn't a question; and besides, she thought, feeling slight aggravation - her car had been left behind at the office when they had grabbed her. Had they been planning on leaving her there if the meeting didn't go well?

"I'll send the next contract to you within the week," Kyouya continued, and she stumbled, then stopped.

"Excuse me?" she asked, brows raised. "I told you before, I'm not going to be involved in shady dealings."

"Yes, yes," Kyouya waved off her words. "Your high ideals and such... did you ever consider, Fujioka-san," he suddenly asked, voice deadly serious, "what kinds of crimes would be happening in this city should no Families be looking out for their areas, and policing the real criminals who come through?"

"Policing?" she muttered, rolling her eyes. Yes, that was exactly what she would have to do if this ever happened again - go straight to the police. "_Don't _send me anything else," she said, "and don't grab me like that again. Or I'll be the lawyer seeing to your prison sentence."

She hailed a cab before he could interject any more nonsense, and hoped it would be the last she would see of any of them.

Back in the limo, Kyouya pulled his phone out and dialed a familiar number.

"Ah, Fujitaka-san, if you could do me a small favor..."

* * *

A/N: If you notice one of the hosts is MIA… you'll be pleased to know that he _will _appear... soon.


	75. Mafia: Inside 48

Insider

Today was like any other, she thought, pulled inside a car the moment she stopped paying attention, and driven off to some unknown destination.

The twins were absent, but their trademark was not – though Kyouya handed the white student's shirt and skirt over silently, she knew better than to protest having to change. She _did _raise an eyebrow at the outfit, but Kyouya said nothing - just a look - and she sighed.

It was an easier task than normal, which meant she had time to glance out the windows – and time to realize the buildings were familiar to her.

_Downtown?_ she wondered, feeling a mild panic as she glanced down at the borrowed clothes.

There was a good chance that someone would spot her at this rate, and word would get back to the company. Haruhi sighed. If she made it through this day without incident, it would be a miracle.

* * *

With a professional hand, Kyouya helped her from the car, and Haruhi ignored the passerby in favor of straightening her skirt. It was a little too short for her personal tastes, and she planned to have _words_ the next time the twins were around.

"This way," Kyouya murmured, one hand at her back a light pressure that she knew better than to underestimate.

Sure, the man had those talented guards (or perhaps hit men), but he wasn't the type to be afraid of getting his hands dirty, either.

She walked willingly, if not resignedly, along with him.

"Ah, Tamaki," the dark-haired mafia man called out, and Haruhi watched with horror bordering on disbelief as a _policeman_ turned around and beamed at the criminal.

"Kyouya!" he shouted, even though they were only a few feet apart, and everyone around them cringed away. It was unfair, she thought, that Ootori-san could so easily (and comfortably, she noted with disgust) walk into the downtown precinct. It should also be unlawful.

"Officer," she began, feeling a bit of relief after an already long day. "Do you know who this man is?"

"Of course!" he exclaimed, giving her an interested look (_too_ interested, perhaps). "But who are you?"

Haruhi held back from hitting herself, just barely.

That annoying smile was on the Ootori's face again.

* * *

A few minutes later, Haruhi was holding a cool cup of water, wondering how her world had, yet again, turned into a kind of hell.

She was a lawyer, she reminded herself with a little bit of desperation. These were the men they trusted to back up the laws of their country. The men who were _supposed_ to bring in the kind of criminal who was sitting beside her, chatting it up with the Commissioner's son.

For the first time in years, she thought she might cry, but that might have been the exhaustion she felt at seeing Ootori and Suou-san talking so amicably.

* * *

"Kyouya," the other man said in a chiding tone, "are you up to your old tricks again?"

Haruhi gave them both a disturbed glance. Whatever tricks Suou Tamaki knew of, she was sure she didn't want to know.

"Yes," Kyouya replied, with no prevarication. Haruhi rolled her eyes instinctively – he _would _feel no shame about it.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," the blond scolded, and Haruhi coughed, certain it was a better choice than moaning at this odd situation.

"Fujitaka-chan," Suou-san said, eyes sparkling in disturbing ways at her, "don't worry! Uncle Tama will get you a ride home, ne?"

"Perverted uncle," the darker haired man said, and Tamaki began to wail with frightening intensity.

"Kyou-_ya!_ Don't sully innocents with your dirty dealings! Look at this precious beauty," he continued, oblivious to Haruhi's ticking forehead. "Since when do you rob high schools of such charming students? Surely a few of your men could threaten those bullies for you, rather than letting an innocent cherry blossom face such risks!"

Haruhi wasn't sure which to resent most – being called a cherry blossom (her father would have been in whoops over that one) or from the implication that she couldn't deal with the idiots Ootori threw at her regularly without using some stupid feminine charm.

"Idiot," the other man replied, with an irreverence that bordered on affection. Haruhi felt sure that the slur on her name (and her age) was the only thing keeping the delinquent amused.

Snapping at him now, though, would inevitably bring about her doom in the form of a twisted, bespectacled man. She looked over once more to see the blond officer _sparkling_. She put her head into her hands.


	76. Mafia: Fair 11

Fairest

The procedure, Haruhi had learned through experience, was pretty simple.

Kyouya would hand over a contract once she had been "picked up" (grabbed would be a better term, but she was as used to it by now as she would ever be), and then she would look over it on the way to meeting a "client" (i.e. a mafia or yakuza boss). From the first day, Kyouya had made it clear that she represented both sides' interests, and in the case of *ahem* less intelligent clients, she was to explain the terms.

Somehow, word had quickly gotten around about 1) her fairness and 2) her gender. It seemed like the second factor always seemed to weigh more with the men they met, no matter how many times she told the "client" that she was a _lawyer_.

When she had a chance to ask Honey why they always seemed to trust her, even though it was Ootori-san who was bringing her, he had tilted his head to the side, in the way designed to make him look cutest, and finally said, "You're the mediator," as though that should have explained everything.

She sighed, knowing that her father's position as mediator hadn't meant instant trust or safety; hence the multiple visits to the hospital. So far, the mafia members she had met had treated her with better manners than the educated men she met at Court.

"You have honest eyes," Morinozuka-san said, and she looked at him, startled. It was so rare to hear him speak that for a moment she missed the significance of what he had said. Then she frowned.

"Honest eyes?" she asked, not understanding how her fairness as a lawyer held less weight than her appearance.

"They know they can trust you," Kaoru added, and she gave them all puzzled looks.

Ootori-san chuckled, proving he had been paying attention although his eyes had not moved from his laptop's screen. "Everyone trusts you, but _you_ can't trust them," he murmured, and she scowled.

"What do you expect?" she retorted. "Can you really say you're trust-worthy people?"

The car was silent after that, all the men thinking that for being an excellent mediator, Haruhi didn't understand anything.


	77. Mafia: Brave 62

Bravery

Haruhi was suffering from very mixed feelings.

The day had started as so many of her days did, now.

Kyouya came to pick her up with the twins in tow; Honey and Mori were missing. The two pairs often seemed to alternate, though that probably had more to do with their real-life schedule than trying to throw Haruhi off balance. She changed into less formal clothes, listening to the twins chatter with something approaching fondness; it was hard to interact with them for two months and not be a _little_ charmed.

Especially since they treated her as she longed to be treated at work – like an equal. Kyouya never added to their conversation, but she didn't doubt that he paid attention. There was always a small upturn to his mouth while the two exchanged nonsense about her choice of work clothes.

The car had stopped and they had all gotten out, four more of Kyouya's men filing after them, perhaps for the intimidation factor, she guessed. Haruhi didn't see any point in asking about them, since Kyouya would never give her a straight answer. So she inferred. (A lot had to be inferred in this business, she had learned).

"Hey," the man waiting for them said, looking nervous. "Uh, the boss's in an un'spected meeting. H-He sends his regrets."

The group stood silently, looking to their leader, who frowned. And then he smiled (scary!) at the first line of defense, as Haruhi liked to term them.

"We'll wait, then," Kyouya reassured him. The man seemed to drip with sweat.

"Ah, 'kay. I'll… let 'im know." He scurried off, leaving the entrance open and unprotected, which even Haruhi knew was odd.

But no one said anything. There was the sound of footsteps from inside, more than one pair, and the members who Haruhi had always looked at as accessories moved to surround the group.

It was the first really threatening situation she had ever been in, and Haruhi was shocked to discover that her nerves were singing. She _knew_ from her father's experience that not every meeting between mafia factions was as polite and easy as she had experienced, but for some reason, she had come to expect a certain... decorum... from this part of her life - that she _hadn't_ chosen.

The tap of shoes slowed, and Haruhi found that they were looking at a group very similar to their own.

A dark-haired man stood at the head, flanked by two bulky types whose faces seemed stuck in a perpetual scowl. More of the same were behind him.

"Kyouya," he said. "I thought I'd ordered you to stop this nonsense."

His eyes flicked over the other three obvious outsiders; Haruhi could feel the twins like two angry cats behind her, but they kept uncharacteristically silent.

"Father," Kyouya returned, bowing in sincere respect, to Haruhi's eyes. She looked back at the man, Ootori-san, head of a mafia group she had become intwined with, in disguised interest. For she suspected that there weren't many people who Ootori Kyouya respected.

"If you don't quit by choice, I _will_ force you," he told his son, and Haruhi just barely held her ground against the icy and disapproving look in his eyes. And it hadn't even been directed at her.

Then they walked past, business finished, and left. Full of questions, Haruhi didn't dare to open her mouth, not when Kyouya's face was like marble and his jaw clenched hard enough to make even the observers flinch.

"Kyouya?" Hikaru was the brave one, tentative though his voice was. "Should we turn back?"

Haruhi watched with fascination as Kyouya seemed to swallow down his emotions, and then straighten up. She hadn't thought he could fit more starch into his backbone.

"Let's see what we can salvage from Ootori-sama's interference," he said, and they followed him like obedient children into the East end's headquarters.


	78. Mafia: Burst 91

Paradigm Shift

Three days later, Haruhi arrived home to find her father with a guest.

Waiting for _her_.

Suou Tamaki's head whipped around as she stepped through the living room door, and she blinked in surprise, looking up at her father to see a strange expression on his face. He seemed amused, but not in the usual way; his countenance was serious, and suddenly reminded her of the father she had been used to as a girl.

Mature, matter-of-fact, and lovingly concerned about her. How he'd been before her mother had passed away, actually. Ryuoji patted her shoulder as he went past, and she watched in confusion as he closed the door behind him, leaving her with Suou-san.

"Fujioka-chan," Tamaki called, getting her attention. "Your father was kind enough to make me tea. Would you like some?"

The police man's gentle manner was more disturbing even than her father's, and she wondered suddenly if his visit had something to do with Kyouya, and if he was finally in jail. She didn't care to examine the sudden panic in her chest.

"I'd like a cup," she responded, and set her briefcase down by the sofa and then sat down across from him. Fifteen minutes later, the panic was gone, replaced by utter amazement. Apparently, Suou Tamaki not only had no qualms about associating with men like Ootori Kyouya, but also had no hesitation in using his authority to look up her personal information.

Which is why the chatty man was sitting in her father's living room, eating through the week's leftovers. Tea hadn't been enough to keep his hands and stomach occupied. She would never be able to view the police force in quite the same way as she had before this interview.

He had moved on to less interesting subjects, so Haruhi's quick mind had gone to work on the information he had given her in exchange for intruding.

It seemed that Ootori Kyouya was not quite what he made himself out to be, and Haruhi was suffering a massive headache (or maybe just world-view shock) because of it. The irritating man had had a chance for a respectable life. And he had given it up – more like refused it – after graduating from college. Another fact that Kyouya would never have let slip that 'Tamaki' (as Suou-san insisted on being called) had given out like free candy, was that his father, Ootori Yoshio, had been the one to push all of his offspring towards more law-abiding life styles.

And he was _not_ pleased at the way his youngest son had chosen to continue the "family business."

However, according to Tamaki, (who was eating _tonight's dessert_, she noticed vaguely), Kyouya had a bigger plan that no one, except perhaps Tamaki, had been informed of. As of yet.

Knowing what she did, both of past experience and Tamaki's story, she could easily see the Ootori presenting his coup d'état with a smirk and flourish. _If _he made it that far. Tamaki's concern was for the force Ootori Yoshio was putting on the police force to shut his son's "operations" down. No matter that he was causing Ootori's group to grow exponentially in power and influence. It seemed that Ootori-san had noble intentions of his own – to bring an end to the Ootori mafia.

It was annoying to Haruhi that Kyouya had never told her anything, only because she _knew_ that making circumstances more difficult for himself to get her help with his plans was somehow _amusing_ to him. She had lost some serious sleep over how to get out of the strange relationship she had formed with the mafia – _multiple_ mafia groups - and now, months later, she learned that they were (_maybe)_ not as illegal as she had once thought.

Now, sitting across from Tamaki-san, she had no plans of letting on that she knew his underlying goal. Despite his sudden respectability, he was still delivering glares and threats to her, and frustrating her down to her last shred of patience.

… But maybe she could make a few allowances, every now and then.

All in the cause of the greater good.


	79. Mafia: Bastard 40

Bastard

He stood before his father's desk alone - his brothers had left at their father's command- and his father's guards had slipped out silently behind them, as though it had all been arranged beforehand, just like a script.

It probably had. The power play of such arrangements had once amused him as a spectator (or even as the orchestrator), but after he'd begun staging his own real-life dramas, he wasn't laughing.

"I'm sure you know why you're here," Yoshio rumbled, anger burning in his dark eyes.

Kyouya raised a single brown in polite inquiry.

"Do I?" he murmured thoughtfully. "Do _you_?"

For a moment anger was replaced by confusion. But Yoshio Ootori wouldn't be sidetracked so easily.

"You've made a mockery of the family name; of our very honor!"

Kyouya considered turning the charge back at him, but instead compressed his lips into a thin line. Yoshio seemed gratified by the small sign of irritation; he began listing all of his third son's faults, a list that gradually turned into what he wanted cleaned up and attended to by tomorrow, at the latest. Kyouya waited patiently while his father ran out of steam.

When at last Yoshio looked at him for an explanation, (or more likely, capitulation), Kyouya took a steadying breath.

"I have no intention of going along with your plans, nor of changing what I've done. No one can stop what I've put into motion; certainly _you_ can't. If you had any wisdom, you wouldn't try to interfere."

The silence hung between them after he finished, thick and heavy, as both men stared each other down. Then the real shouting began, and Kyouya was briefly grateful that everyone had left the room - though undoubtedly by this time all the noise had attracted quite the crowd outside the doors. Eventually, what he had been waiting for came.

"Get out! And don't let me see your face - ever again! You don't belong to this family! You're no son of mine!"

The veins on Yoshio Ootori's neck stood out as he leaned across his desk, almost lunging across it at his youngest son as he flung the pronouncement. A bitter smile curved Kyouya's mouth, and his gray eyes turned to steel.

"I've known that for quite a long time now," he retorted, and bowed sharply, the gesture a mix of irony and resignation. He was leaving his regrets in this room, he reminded himself, turning on his heel. The brief glimpse he had of his father's face as he turned away revealed bafflement.

"Good-bye," Kyouya said, and stepped through the door.

The walk to the front door was short, but he could feel the eyes on him as he passed through the halls. His resolve strengthened with every step, and by the time he reached the gravel drive, he felt like a new man. Someone different.

Someone stronger – almost reckless. Someone capable of pulling down the entire fabric of society as they had all known it.

Tachibana-san opened the back door of the car, waiting patiently for him as always. Kyouya stopped just short of climbing in, and Tachibana met his gaze questioningly.

"I'm really a bastard now," he told his long-time ally and servant, and watched as Tachibana's eyes widened and he coughed back a startled laugh.

"A-_hem._ As you say, sir," Tachibana agreed blandly, and bowed him into the car, shutting the door behind him.

Kyouya blinked in surprise as his eyes adjusted to the dark interior. Haruhi sat facing the rear of the vehicle, scowling at him.

"That's a terrible thing to say," she scolded, and the new Kyouya was tempted to smile. Instead he stretched out his legs in the space between them, and hummed contemplatively.

"I meant it in the most technical way," he explained patiently, his expression relaxed. "I've been disowned."

She looked shocked; then she rolled her eyes, and pulled out a folder from the briefcase sitting at her side.

"I wanted to go over the latest contract you sent me. Did you realize that the agreement qualifies them to carry firearms into…"

He let her voice wash over him, as relaxing as a warm bath on a winter day, leaving him content in his own skin for the first time in years. There'll be hell to pay in the very near future, but strangely, he's looking forward to it.


	80. Mafia: Grim 94

Grim

"You're halfway in love with her, and you won't even acknowledge it," Tamaki said quietly, and Kyouya froze over his paperwork, considering how to respond.

When he glanced up, Tamaki's face was calm, and his usually carefree eyes were deep.

Damn.

Kyouya hated Tamaki's insightful moments so much more than his idealistic ones. They occurred so rarely that he liked to pretend at times that he dreamed them up, but here was proof again that they were real, and somehow they always seemed to come at exactly the wrong moment – for Kyouya.

"What are you talking about?" he questioned lightly, returning his attention to the papers. He wasn't going to admit anything, especially when Tamaki was bringing up such a touchy subject at a time when he most needed to concentrate on other things.

"I'm talking about how you're going to end up just like your father, if you alienate that girl. You're going to end up just like your father, and miserable about it, and _none_ of us will be able to stop you, then."

The prediction was so unexpected that Kyouya set aside his papers, pushed back his chair and stared at Tamaki.

"There's no reason for her to be involved with this, with_ us_, after the final contract is signed," he explained slowly. "Asking her to stay around would serve no practical purpose. If our plan is successful, then she can finally return to her rightful career – rebuild her reputation as an honest, hard-working lawyer. That's all she has wanted from the beginning, and the least we can do as a repayment for her work."

Tamaki's clear gaze was disconcertingly sharp.

"That's what she wanted in the beginning, yes. But have you asked her recently?"

Kyouya looked away.

"I won't ask. She doesn't deserve to be cheated of her escape." His own gaze turned sharp. "I know you and the others have been trying to talk her over; do you think that's what she wants?"

Tamaki was silent.

"It should only take a few more months before the need for her role is done. I'm making arrangements for her safety during the worst of the… change over. After that, she'll have her percious freedom."

"And you think you have the right to decide that for her?" his best friend asked.

"It will be my last decision for her. What she chooses after that is out of my hands."

He still couldn't bring himself to meet Tamaki's eyes, and so missed the brief flash of amusement that crossed Tamaki's face.

"I suppose you're right about _that_. It should be interesting… Haruhi-chan's choice."


	81. Mafia: Corrupt 100

Corrupt

_**-Kyouya-**_

The city is rotten to the core.

You could even say we've gone beyond rotten, to putrid decay. And it's not just your average Joe who wants a change – even in the underbelly of the city, men long for change. However, unless that very underbelly, the worst scum of all the filth, is cleaned out, we won't be able to start anew.

So those sons of mafia men who have come to hate the very roles and positions they have inherited, or even just those who wish for a simple life with a family and safety, will lend their power to me, to eliminate the _real_ infection in this city – the ones who _enjoy_ inflicting pain, and entrapping the innocent.

But there's little chance they'll surrender their world without a fight.

So when the time comes, the police force will do their duty: they will protect the civilians during our mafia civil war. And our reluctant negotiator will be sent to safety. For her own sake – and all of ours.

You ask why? I wouldn't feel _guilty_ if she got hurt, exactly, but the men who have pledged themselves and the influence they carry to me for the duration of this revolution would desert me in a moment if _she_ was at risk.

One irritating young woman is _not _going to ruin years' worth of planning.

_**-Kaoru & Hikaru-**_

We didn't ask about _how _he was going to get rid of her in time. But maybe that's the wrong way to phrase it. We wanted her out of the way as much as the others did.

Tama-chan said he had already checked with Kyouya, and that even if _Kyouya's _plan didn't work, he himself had a back-up. We might not have trusted that either, but Tama-chan said it with his serious face – the one that makes us think that the planned-for "afterwards" might really be possible – so we'll trust him.

Besides, it's not as if Kyouya's plans have ever failed; though there's surely a first time for everything.

And while Haruhi-kun is quite perceptive, sometimes it seems like she chooses not to look too closely at Kyouya. Which is probably one of the few actively stupid things she does; no matter how much this might be to our advantage, you just don't look away from a snake when its eyes are on you.

We should know.

_**-Honey & Mori-**_

Our families have never been involved with the underworld. Samurai and skilled soldiers, yes. Mafia, no. But we chose to throw in our lot with Kyou-chan because of his vision (and how he planned to achieve that vision).

The Haninozuka and Morinozuka lines are known for their strength, tenacity and plain hard work.

Kyou-chan has all those traits, too, but in a different way than our traditions understand.

He keeps his word. That's why we _really _joined him.

A new future would be impossible without _all _of us putting forth some effort. It's not a time to sit back and watch, but to join in and fight for our future.

It's nice too, that being best in our fields can actually serve a purpose, other than bringing further glory to the family name in martial arts. It's been a few generations since our families could usefully serve the people, but we hope to re-direct all that talent and man-power for the sake of the coming generation.

_**-Tamaki-**_

Two visionaries, who by their very positions in society should be enemies, have instead made the closest of alliances. It would baffle and confuse all but those who are like-minded, and so I agreed to stay out of the spot-light for the first half of Kyouya's master plan.

Over time, it became necessary to shed my mask to win the trust of a crucial few – but not many.

I hate to slur my own people, but the police force is just as corrupt and riddled with informants and bribery as the mafia itself. Father might suspect me of _something_, but if he got wind of what was really in the works, our plans would be finished.

Thank goodness the only thing Ootori-san and Father agree on are the kind of school to send their sons to.

Better by far to play the idiot and receive an honorable demotion. And winning over ladies, young _and _old, will be to our benefit down the road. No distant police chief for the next generation, oh no.

Oh, Haruhi-chan? She's the unexpected (but not unwelcome!) wrench in the works.

Sure, he might _act _like she's merely a tool to be used and then discarded, but I'm relieved every time I see them together. (Not that I see them often, mind you. The _plan_, after all.) But I had begun to worry after his family disowned him; it was in his plan too, of course, but no matter how unaffected he might act, it's a hard blow for anyone.

But after two days of interactions with his star negotiator, he looked as human as I've ever seen him.

My one fear through all these years of plotting and planning was that he would lose himself in the necessary deceptions and violence. But I've little fear of that now, no matter how bad it gets.

What? Well, yes, _now _I see the reason why he wants to send her away. What feeling man wouldn't? And don't let him fool you - he does have feelings.

It just takes years of friendship to see through that damnably crafty mask he wears.

And if I have to interfere again when this is all over, well, I'm not afraid of his temper. What is worse is the prospect of that temper never being assuaged by _her_ calming influence.


	82. Mafia: Trust 53

Trust

When the level of violence in the city began to grow, and safety began to be an illusion, Tamaki came for her, to send her away.

She argued with him for almost an hour, before Ryouji stepped in with an open cell phone in his hand.

"It's for you," he told her mildly, and she received it with a suspicious frown.

It only took three minutes for the man on the other side of the phone to annihilate her reasons for staying, and then she shut the phone, lips pinched and white, eyes blazing. Ryouji handed her a heavy suitcase, and Tamaki silently escorted her to the taxi.

Haruhi didn't look back as the city skyline grew smaller in the taxi's rear window.

* * *

_Eight Months Later:_

When the black sedan pulled up in front of her uncle's inn, Haruhi only gave it a passing glance.

Her mind was on bringing in the laundry and potted plants; it was scheduled to storm that afternoon, and she didn't want to have the sheets to do again.

Reiza hurried out from the porch to greet the new arrivals, her cheeks flushed at the prospect of well-to-do guests. One tall, full-bodied man dressed all in black unfolded himself from the front seat, and Haruhi came to a jarring stop.

He walked sedately to the rear door and opened it, bowing low as a dark head emerged, revealing a young but cynical visage.

He was just as immaculately dressed as the first time she'd seen him, except the small glasses perched on his nose were new. And were tinted darkly, so that she couldn't see his eyes.

His face was bland as he looked around, eyes passing over Reiza where she was bowing in greeting.

Haruhi wasn't aware of dropping the laundry basket; instead, she was conscious of the feel of her apron's fabric, clutched tightly in her fists. The constricted feeling in her chest, right below her breast bone, confused her.

Her head ached suddenly, and her stomach churned.

But it was only when his eyes found hers that she began having difficulty breathing.

He passed Reiza, who looked surprised, then confused, and then all she could see was him: Kyouya, as he reached for her face.

Haruhi thought she had meant to jerk back, but her legs didn't feel attached to the rest of her body anymore. His touch on her cheek was like an electric shock, and she belatedly yanked her head away.

"Wha-?"

He gave a strange smile, holding his palm up between them like some strange invitation to dance. Two of his fingertips were wet.

"I didn't take you for the emotional type."

She looked into his face, confused by his words, confused by his very presence.

"You said you didn't need me anymore," she said, and he couldn't be sure if she was reminding or reprimanding him.

Regret crossed his face in a flash and disappeared behind the bland facade he usually wore.

"Ah. I wondered if you'd remember that."

She frowned at him.

"How would I forget? I finish compiling all those contracts for you after months of work – without pay! And you tell me to get lost!"

He sighed, and brought his hand up toward his forehead in a familiar gesture, remembering at the last minute that her tears still lingered and awkwardly lowering it instead to his side.

"The others didn't think you could be convinced to leave."

Haruhi blinked rapidly, causing several more salty drops to loosen from her lashes.

"Leave?"

She suddenly realized she had tears falling down her cheeks. Horrified, she turned away, perhaps to wipe her face on her apron, or to pick up the laundry spilling across the grass. But she could do neither, as he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back around, an uncontrolled look of desperation slipping loose.

"Tamaki needs you to come back."

She stilled, and they stared at each other, both shocked at his fumbling evasion. The intervening months must have been harder than she had imagined, was all she could think. His grip relaxed, though he didn't let go.

"I came to take you back to the city. I - _We -_ all need you there."

She stared at him until he grew uncomfortable enough to let go.

"You wouldn't have your old job, of course. It's been made obsolete by the revolution. But Tamaki had a good proposition and you always _did_ want to work on the right side of the law. You have most of the requisite training, though Mori and Honey have said they'll need to put you through your paces."

His eyes scanned her unresponsive face cautiously.

"Of course, we couldn't use your real name, not after so many of our new… ah, _friends_ have seen your face, but -."

Haruhi felt something break loose in her chest. The pain from before eased, though tension began to build in her shoulders.

One dark eyebrow rose.

"That's all you're offering? Come back and work for your new government?"

His gaze darted to the left. Kyouya would never be so obvious as to squirm, but by now she knew the signs of when something was about to get _very_ complicated. The uncertainty of her lifestyle from a year ago waved a flag of warning, yet she was _relieved_ at the familiarity of it.

"I thought you really meant it."

Kyouya did a good job not looking as baffled as he must have felt, but Haruhi really _had_ learned how to read him.

"When you told me to 'get lost'," she explained.

His steel gray eyes, usually so securely locked, opened wide, and for a moment she could glimpse unsearched depths to him, and a desperation that was uncharacteristic of him. She reached out and took his left hand in her right, not wanting him to suffer as she had - for months.

"I'll come back with you."

Her look became crafty; calculating as he had never seen her. "But I have my own demands."

There were no words that Kyouya could have used to describe how he felt then, but Ryouji wasn't at all surprised at Haruhi's announcement after once glance at the young man's face.

Thank goodness all traces of tears were gone by then.


	83. Regency: Relief 7

Reprieve

He was taxing the twenty-five ways of escape he'd previously considered for one his father wouldn't recognize when Tamaki approached again, looking unbearably excited. Kyouya glanced to the side, searching for his imminent exit; one open arch looked promising, but the Duke's heir grabbed hold of his arm before he could take off.

"Kyouya, I've found her!" Tamaki announced, his voice hushed but triumphant. Kyouya merely nodded, having heard the phrase from the man hundreds of times.

Literally.

"Is she tall and slender and beautiful?" he asked, knowing by now Tamaki's preferences.

"Um…" the pause was enough to catch his attention, and for the first time that night, Kyouya's interest perked up.

"She's _not_ beautiful?" he inquired, intentionally trying to rouse the man's ire. Tamaki thought all women were beautiful, and it was a long-standing tradition between their small group of former schoolmates to deny the beauty of any woman Tamaki picked out, just to see the resulting explosion of righteous wrath. They never said such things in public, of course; all of the men were too high in society and too well-bred to ever insult a lady to her face (or through the gossip).

"Ah, well... do you remember the commoner His Majesty the King was thinking of knighting?" Tamaki asked, and Kyouya gave a soft sigh. Gossip was inevitable in society, besides which, dealings with the king (no matter who was involved) always caught Kyouya's attention.

"I remember," he said, and Tamaki smiled brightly.

"He _was_ knighted; it occurred over a month ago, but I've only just met him tonight. He hasn't been in town, you know, because he returned home to fetch his daughter for the end of the Season."

Suddenly things were much clearer to Kyouya; the existence of a daughter had not been outside of the realm of possibilities concerning Fujioka, but he had heard nothing about her. In his one interaction with Fujioka, Kyouya had sensed a deeper intelligence beneath the amiable smiles. It seemed the man had indeed been wise enough to avoid mention of any daughter until he could be sure of his new status. If she had any slight claim to beauty, though, Tamaki was certain to have begged an introduction.

"So she's the one you're rambling about?" Kyouya asked, wanting to get to the point so that he could escape; his interest was waning now that he knew more.

And with Tamaki standing beside him, the chances of being maneuvered into a dance were growing higher. He hated dancing: the invasion of private space and the expectation of pointless chatter, the need to entertain one's partner and remember to appear interested in her responses – Tamaki stored women's chitchat like little jewels; Kyouya regarded them as specks of dirt that accumulatied on his evening wear.

But the other man was still talking away, probably extolling her virtues. How beautiful could a commoner's daughter be, anyway? he wondered with irritation.

"And then she shyly glided away," Tamaki ended with a flourish and glowing smile; Kyouya considered telling him the effort was wasted on him. Shy was right; throwing a commoner into one of the busiest balls of the season was sheer lunacy, and only a commoner promoted to the title of knight would think it a good idea.

"Oh, _Haruhi_! It's such a pleasure to meet again. Won't you grace me for this next dance?" Tamaki had suddenly dropped Kyouya for what Kyouya assumed was another of his conquests, and got ready to take advantage of the distraction. Really, how did Tamaki keep up with them? he wondered briefly, and then prepared to make his escape.

"Lord Suou, I would appreciate your addressing me as Miss Fujioka. _Please_. We are barely even acquaintances."

The voice was lower than he had expected, and sounded genuinely aggravated. And the lady had just rebuffed Tamaki. The slight slouch disappeared and years of training kicked to the fore. Kyouya put on a polite smile.

"Tamaki, would you would do me the honor of introducing your friend?"


	84. Regency: Bonus 47

Bonus

Haruhi wasn't quite sure how she had gotten here.

Oh, the logistics of it had been clear enough; first the carriage ride to London three days ago with her father, moving into a new townhouse, (thankfully not too extravagant for their budget), and then this evening another carriage ride to this house (more like mansion) where the ball was being held.

She understood all of that, and had gone obediently along because her father had wanted it _so _much, and just kept murmuring how it would have made her mother happy…

She had come, but she had not been expecting to be besieged. In the eyes of society, she was a nobody, and she had not minded that status, truthfully. After a month in London like her father wanted, she would return to the country and concentrate on making their mill successful. There was no need to find a place for herself here, because she had no intention of staying.

But for some reason, her simple plans for the evening, nay, perhaps for the month, had gone immediately awry. She wasn't certain how Lord Suou knew her father, but he had used the acquaintance to all but ambush her once they had made it through the door. It had taken a few minutes for her to regain enough facilities to make a hasty get away. After losing sight of him, she had hoped another lady would catch his attention, and she had been so _sure _he was flirting with a lady in red when she crossed the floor for the refreshment table.

Instead, she had walked straight into him, and found herself more irritated than before.

Surely it wasn't polite manners for members the ton to approach strangers and address them so familiarly. Haruhi would have assumed he was trying to insult her... except he radiated sincerity. Sincerity did not necessary make her grateful, however. It just made his annoying traits unfixable. Just as she was working up the perfect excuse for why she couldn't dance with him (she had never learned; she had a club foot; a recent accident had left her lame), another voice had spoken up from behind him.

"Tamaki, if you would do me the honor?"

And so a second introduction was forced on her, despite her unwillingness to be known – she was beginning to hate polite society and their manners. The Ootori name was known throughout the country, so it took no special effort to recognize who was making the request. Especially when she had her own, private interest in business. No matter that only the recent generation had enough wisdom to apply the old riches; the Ootori family had already been legendary.

But Haruhi respected them for their brilliant managing skills, rather than their exalted status in the beau monde.

Thankfully, Lord Kyouya Ootori had seemed less of an idiot than his friend. If she hadn't been so ready to get away from Lord Suou, she probably would have been slightly uneasy in the other lord's presence. It was rumored that his family in person was quite cold-blooded, even for business minded men, and though she hated to pay heed to gossip, there had been quite a bit of speculation concerning the youngest son's motives. So now she found herself in the middle of the ballroom, dancing with the third son of the Marquis, Yoshio Ootori.

Damn polite society for getting her into this mess. Only aristocrats would think it a good idea to elevate her father as a peer of the realm. Haruhi now had time to think, and time to be afraid of the mercenary gleam in the gray eyes looking down at her.

* * *

Kyouya had been amused by her acceptance, for she was clearly using it as an escape from Tamaki's presence. In any other case, he might have been angered by such an obvious lack of esteem from someone so far below himself, but to see Tamaki's jaw on the floor and tears of betrayed rage coming to his eyes, he could easily bear it.

The small hand in his didn't shake, thank God; far too often the women forced on him by Tamaki were either so scared or so nervous they stammered or plain passed out (he suspected some of faking it). She also had the temerity to stare him straight in the eyes. Kyouya found himself interested by her, despite the fact that his impression of her so far had been brief.

"I would ask if you're enjoying yourself, but it's plain to see that's not the case," he said, relishing the free speech he could not abuse other women with. Miss Fujioka raised one eyebrow, as though silently commenting on his bluntness, but otherwise did not react. Kyouya was happy to find that his guess had been correct – rude behavior wasn't going to faze _her_.

"If it is so obvious, I don't know why you've mentioned it," she replied, her own response not as polite as she could have made it; she had been more unbalanced by the past half hour than she had been in years, and the loss of control had only added to her irritation. Lord Kyouya grinned suddenly, inadvertently surprising her and causing her to miss a step in the dance. She had not particularly noted him as being attractive before.

He covered for her stumble perfectly, and she frowned in concentration, growing a tad annoyed with him for causing the mishap; she _knew_ these dances, from years of the ridiculous finishing school her father had forced her to attend, and though public opinion hardly mattered to _her_, her father would be hurt by her mistakes.

He would also go on and on about them for hours if she made too much of a spectacle of herself tonight.

"I hadn't realized my company would be so disagreeable to you," he murmured, leading her into an elaborate spin. She glared at him, certain now that he was just as bothersome as Lord Tamaki Suou, if perhaps in a different way.

"Is it your habit to insult your partners, Lord Ootori?" she asked, tone deliberately sharp. The grin this time was a mere upturn of his lips, but she didn't miss it. So the other one thrived on lavish compliments, and this one on insults, she concluded, and decided that her father would not agree to leave early, no matter what excuses she made. But, if Lord Ootori was not going to rebuke her for her own harsh speech, she certainly wouldn't hold back.

Five minutes later, no thought of escape remained in Kyouya's mind. The commoner's daughter was far too interesting to frustrate, and her replies were never the same, nor what he ever expected to hear coming from her lips. It seemed this young lady had a brain, and wasn't afraid to use the sharpest side of it on him.

And little wisps of hair were falling down from her bun into her face every time she turned sharply away from him, looking for her own escape.

* * *

A/N: Beau monde: the fashionable world; high society; the fashionable elite. Yes it's from the French, meaning literally 'good' and 'world/society.'


	85. Regency: Confront 73

Confrontation

When Lord Kyouya Ootori walked into White's that morning, he spotted his father in discussion with the Earl of Shelbourne. He sighed quietly under his breath, and then walked towards them, smiling genially.

"My lord," he gave a quick bow of acknowledgement to Shelbourne and sat down next to their table.

Their conversation continued with only a polite nod to him, which was what Kyouya had hoped for. He opened the day's newspaper and began to read. A few minutes later, though, a distinct clearing of the throat brought him out of recent silk and cotton prices.

"Lord Shelbourne?" he inquired pleasantly, recognising the rumble for what it really was: the beginning of an interrogation.

"I've been hearing things about you, Ootori," the man began in his deep voice. Kyouya put his paper aside, shifting into the polite façade that had served him well since leaving Oxford for the multiple worlds of Society, politics and business.

"Oh?" he did nothing to hide the discouraging chill his voice had acquired.

"Don't you find it unsuitable, the way some of the young gentry are acting, chasing the skirt of such a common flower?" Lord Shelbourne asked, eyes beady with calculation, waiting for the younger man's response. Kyouya felt himself stiffen, just the slightest. He didn't look to see if his father had noticed.

"Common?" he asked instead, letting his smile widen just a bit. "Haven't you been paying attention in the Lords recently, sir? There are distinct murmurs of the "commoners" rising up and taking our places in England's market, if we don't join them in preparing for the future."

The Earl's face had turned a distinctly red colour; Kyouya decided it would be prudent to let his father deal with the resulting fallout. He knew by now that his father's views towards the situation that became more obvious with every year were similar to his own, but as one of the most highly regarded aristocrats involved in business, his father could not afford to speak with the freedom (and rudeness) Kyouya had just used.

Which was why, Kyouya thought to himself as he walked up the street, his father was beginning to value him just as much, if perhaps not _more_, than his older brothers. It had taken a few years for Kyouya to realize there were distinct advantages to being a younger son; after taking over control of several failing companies and revitalizing them, he could begin to look at starting his own venture. In just a few years, he would worry about attaining the titles he desired.

Besides, Sir Fujioka's recent addition to the peerage had told Kyouya some valuable information about the king's frame of mind towards the new age of enterprise rising up. Kyouya was not worried about the future.

Though he did miss a step when his eyes fell on a short figure across the street, exiting through the front door of Hatchard's bookstore. Letting out a sigh he hadn't known he'd been holding in, he changed direction to catch up to a young woman who had shown a most intriguingly _uncommon_ mind in their previous encounters.

The fact that her eyes widened in the most amusing dismay each time she spotted him had _nothing_ to do with why he was still seeking her acquaintance.


	86. Regency: Rough 64

Rough Patch

Haruhi was enjoying Almack's.

She hadn't expected to, not from the comments Lords Ootori and Hitachiin made, but because of their disgust with the sea of white-wrapped debutantes, they hadn't shown up. So she was blissfully free to talk to whoever she liked, and to stroll around with her glass of lemonade and turn down dance offers.

"Miss Fujioka," came the voice of one of her hostesses. "If I may…"

Haruhi turned and smiled at the older woman, and turned a polite face to two young men, one very tall, and one very short, who stood behind her. "I believe I have the distinct pleasure of introducing you to Viscount Kayrou, Lord Haninozuka and Lord Morinozuka," she said, raising her eyebrows at the young woman. Haruhi didn't remember seeing them at any other gatherings, and curtsied, wondering why she was being singled out. As polite talk ensued, the hostess's smile dimmed; there seemed to be nothing gossip-worthy going on between the three, and when someone else beckoned, she left with only one regretful glance.

"Miss Fujioka," the short man bowed with a shy smile. "It's very nice to meet you. Our friends have spoken of you so often, we felt it was necessary to seek you out."

Inside, Haruhi's expression froze.

"Your friends?" she inquired, hoping against hope…

"Ah, yes," he nodded enthusiastically. "Suou-chan and Hita-chan are always talking about you."

Haruhi wondered exactly how rude it would be if she was to back away, quickly.

"We don't often come to town," came a low voice, and Haruhi realized it was the first time the tall man had spoken.

"Oh?" she asked, sincere curiosity stopping her thoughts of retreat. "Then what's the special occasion?"

The two exchanged uneasy glances, and Haruhi felt the first stirrings of compassion. They looked just like the younger men who were standing around the floor, their attendance forced by hen-pecking mothers, surreptitiously fingering their neck cloths as though they had unwittingly tied them too tightly and were unable to breathe.

"Well, you see, the thing is…" Lord Haninozuka babbled, looking even more anxious. "It's not that..."

"Mitsukuni must marry," Lord Morinozuka explained bluntly. Haruhi blinked in surprise.

"Oh."

"_Yeah_," came the plaintive agreement from the blond, who was now slumped even lower. "I don't even _know_ any women except for Mother, but Father insisted that it _had_ to be this year… so when Suou-chan talked about you, Takashi thought you might be able to help."

The dark-haired man turned a bit red at having his suggestion stated to the woman concerned, but didn't withdraw his earlier words, either.

"Help?" Haruhi asked, not quite understanding.

"Yeah!" Lord Haninozuka seemed to gain confidence now that their intentions had been stated. "Because you know some women, right?"

Haruhi had a hard time holding back an incredulous laugh.

"I suppose that's true," she reluctantly agreed.

"Yay!" There was no way not to be charmed by the shorter lord, who looked like a different person now that he had some hope of navigating the insanity that was the Marriage Mart. He neatly bounced in place with relief. The simple faith that his problems could be solved so easily was refreshing, if not utterly misplaced.

"Thank you," Lord Morinozuka said for them both, and the relieved gratitude in his expression turned Haruhi's reluctance into sudden purpose.

Well, she thought with amused resignation, she _had_ been wanting something to do.

* * *

A/N: I must thank my favorite "bear" for Honey's proper title.


	87. Regency: Father 39

Fathers

"Lady Blanchard asked about where you bought your dress last night, you know," he began, looking quite pleased with himself – which made sense, because he had picked out the dress. "She suggested I give you the funds for more if we're going to be about Town for the year. So what do you think, hm? ..._hmm_?"

Haruhi was, as usual, unenthusiastic about her father's plans. "I don't _care_ about fashion, Father; you've known that for years. Besides, the only purpose for wearing these dresses is to attract a marriage prospect, and you also knowI have no intention of doing _that_." She sighed quietly at this indication of his new obsession.

"I noticed Lord Ootori paid unheard of attention to you the other night, didn't he, Haruhi?" he asked, a sly smile on his face. She glanced at him, face devoid of any emotion or reaction, and then looked away again.

"I wonder if Hatchard's has gotten that new book in about the effects of ego on sanity," she commented off-hand, looking out the window in the direction of the famous bookstore. Her father tossed a small fit behind her, and then tried to calm himself.

"Ha-ru-_hi_!" he whined, "Don't you want to help Papa find you a good match?"

The answer to that was so obviously in the negative that she didn't bother responding. She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Father, if you're that interested in organizing wedding plans, why don't _you _find a wife." Wrong thing to say, she realized a moment too late. "Father –"

"And defile your mother's memory!" he shouted, grabbing her with one hand as the other gestured dramatically. Haruhi sighed as the rant continued on.

"There will never be another woman," her father suddenly said, tone completely serious, and Haruhi met his eyes, saw that his statement was the complete truth, and nodded. She would never disagree that her mother had been an exceptional woman. And while she wouldn't have objected to her father finding a new wife (he needed _something _to occupy his time with), she also knew that she preferred it being just them. As crazy as he could be. She sighed again.

"So, Haru-hi! Do you want to go look for a new dress? Maybe shoes? Or hats!" Haruhi gave a deeper sigh as her father went right back to the frivolous things she would rather _not_ have to pay attention to. A knock at the door gave her an excuse to weasel from his excited voice, and she opened it to find the butler standing there, two cards on the platter.

"Lord Suou and Lord Ootori to see you, Miss," their butler said, in his stoic way. Haruhi didn't have to look at the clock on the mantel to know it was far too early in the morning for polite calls. Which in this rule-bound society could only mean one thing. Her father's eyes looked bright and feverish with delight at the prospect of two marriage proposals in one morning.

Haruhi wondered if it was too late to decide to go shopping for hats.


	88. Regency: Insult 45

Insult

Haruhi was pretty sure she had said no twice. And really, twice was all it should have taken to get her meaning across.

But standing in Lord and Lady Haversham's ballroom, she was getting the distinct impression that neither of the young lords who had asked for her hand had heard a single word she had said the previous morning. Lord Suou and Lord Ootori were arguing over whose ring was better.

Haruhi was probably the only lady in the room, though, who would have counted their 'discussion' as an argument. She was too used to seeing through the overstated manners to think that their polite compliments were sincere. The ladies around them, unashamedly eavesdropping, tittered at the display of jewels and the growing possibility of an engagement before the night was out. That the hoped-for engagement would not be any of theirs, at least not to the two lords who were in a heated 'discussion,' was not considered.

"That's quite a beautiful shine, for such a small emerald," Lord Ootori said with a smile, glancing down at the ring Suou had brought out of his pocket. "What were you trying to match, her dress?"

Haruhi didn't need to glance down to know that her dress was a gold overlay on dark brown fabric. The blond lord seethed for a moment, before smiling just as widely.

"And I'm astounded you chose such a plain diamond," he rebutted, then sniffed with superiority.

Lord Ootori shrugged, nonchalant. "A plain diamond for a plain girl," he explained, and Haruhi blinked in surprise, then gave a quiet chuckle, which was missed in the huge uproar of Lord Suou's screamed outrage. That the lady he was defending would have preferred silence was also not considered.

So when Lord Haninozuka approached with his happy, clueless smile in place, and asked her to dance, she accepted with unprecedented enthusiasm. But she couldn't help but note the fact that when she glanced back to see what Lord Ootori's reaction was to her escape, he was, and probably had been, watching her. He gave the slightest of grins, and she whipped back around, more unnerved than ever before.

Haruhi fought the realization that there had been sincere humor in his eyes.


	89. Regency: Scatter 68

Scatter

There were debutantes fainting all over the ballroom, in a wave that was, eerily enough, making its way towards her. Haruhi wouldn't have noticed, except for the fact that Lord Suou kept whining about 'those bloody twins' to Lord Ootori.

From Haruhi's point of view, there was little to nothing anyone could do to stop the Hitachiin twins from setting off every young lady (or even the older ladies) in the room, but Lord Suou seemed to think that Lord Ootori's command might have the power to bring them to a halt. They might pause should he ever really take offense at their tricks, but since they rarely turned their mischielf his way, that seemed unlikely, she thought with rare irony. So with a sigh she largely ignored the Lord Suou's complaints.

A few seconds later, she was regretting that decision, as she might have had better warning for the next attack of false gentility. The twins posed in front of her, dazzling the crowd with their mirrored beauty as usual, but she could see pure devilry lurking in their eyes.

Had Arai been present, she might have turned to him for help, but Tamaki was likely the cause of her being targeted by the twins, and the silent but somehow deadly Ootori would only ever help her should there be some significant reward in it for him.

So she faced the twins off on her own, unconsciously revealing a bit of her chagrin and long-suffering. Had she but known it, the twins delighted in putting just such a look on her. That, or mild horror.

Between themselves, they called Haruhi, 'the most fun since Oxford.' She undoubtedly would not have found the compliment as endearing as they did.

When Mori and Honey strolled by a few minutes later, she latched on with bare civility.

"Lord Honey," she began, even as he blinked in wide-eyed innocence. "Would you care to dance?"

The small lord seemed to shine with happiness at the offer, and Haruhi was so desperate that she didn't even mind hearing him repeat her words to Mori, who undoubtedly had heard her perfectly well the first time. As the blond swept her off determinedly, she was surprised by the forcefulness of his lead. Surprised, but not displeased. At this rate, the twins wouldn't be able to cut in.

Five young men were left behind, three looking decidedly put out.

"Who was the genius who introduced them?" Lord Hikaru asked, annoyed. Kaoru was too refined to do anything but glare, and Tamaki merely hung his head in despair. He was _never_ going to win her at this rate.

Kyouya glanced at the tallest man, and then back to the couple on the floor, all thoughts carefully concealed. Morinozuka shifted his weight surreptitiously, and kept his eyes on the two dancers, who had started out with determined, concentrated faces and were now laughing and attracting curious attention from all over the ballroom.

He _liked_ Haruhi Fujioka, Mori thought, and managed not to regret the introduction as Honey chatted with more animation and honesty than he had seen in months.


	90. Regency: Misguided 67

Misguided Affections

There were tears gathering at the corner of his eyes, and Haruhi was beginning to feel panicked.

"But I _love _you," Lord Suou tried, and Haruhi flinched. For while she had done nothing to encourage his suit, or to make him feel _that_ way, there was still guilt hovering somewhere. Not enough, though, for her to make a stupid decision that would affect the rest of her life.

"I'm honored," she began, and then as he looked up, hopeful, she quickly added, "_But! _I have _no_ intention of marrying this Season. I am only attending the Season to support my father's entry into the beau monde," she explained, trying in vain to pull her hand from his grasp.

Despite his soft fingers and softer appearance, the man wasn't weak. And she wasn't getting loose. Haruhi glanced around, feeling the urge to flee growing stronger as the chance someone would stumble upon them in this position grew. Much as she had grown used to Lord Suou's strange ways over the past month, she was _not_ prepared to grow used to them for the rest of her life. One whiff of scandal, however, and her choices would disappear. Unless she really did want to marry that kind farmer back home.

Haruhi winced again. What _was_ it about strangely devoted suitors believing that she would make the perfect wife?

Her thoughts slid to a stop when her eyes fell upon the unmistakable form of Lord Ootori, standing a short distance behind the Lord Suou, a strange expression apparently frozen on his face that didn't change, even when she met his gaze. There was a tug at her hand, and her own face unknowingly revealed her dilemma, as well as a plea for assistance. The smallest of smiles cracked Lord Ootori's facade, and she watched his smile widen with horrified recognition. For now she was essentially trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea.

Haruhi very carefully did not think about why the devil was looking like the more appealing choice.

* * *

The look that he settled on her as they walked back to the ballroom, her arm resting lightly on his, was one of arrogant possession. And Haruhi knew she had to deal with that, right away.

"I am _not _marrying this Season," she informed him, and broke from his side as soon as they reached the balcony. She missed the real smile that followed in her wake, one of amused relief. And still tinged with possessive desire.

* * *

A/N: It's up to you to decide which one of them is more misguided in their thinking…


	91. Regency: Sweet 1 70

**Honey Bunny**

Haruhi searched for Lord Morinozuka in the crowd, knowing it would be easier to spot his tall, dark head than Lord Haninozuka's much shorter blond one; truthfully, he blended in too well with the women of court, with his large eyes, shining hair and high-pitched voice.

When she finally saw Morinozuka, she smiled. As expected, Haninozuka was right at his side, looking trapped amongst the horde of women gathered around him. Haruhi made her way through to Lord Morinozuka's side, and greeted him calmly.

The taciturn face relaxed, and she smiled again as he took a deep breath of relief as she made polite conversation. After the music came to a close for the dance, he solicited her hand and Haruhi had one of the nicest dance experiences of her whole (tortured) Season.

They returned at the end to Viscount Kayrou, who was looking like an abandoned puppy. Morinozuka quickly suggested a dance, and Honey perked up at the chance to breathe free from the swarming females.

Knowing full well that the task had been handed to her to distract (and possibly relax) him, Haruhi inquired about his family (several problems there, which she marked to herself not to touch again in public), his horses (Honey preferred the bunnies he raised on his country estate), and then she asked about his hobbies.

What followed was a listing of his favorite sweets, favorite sweet shops, the goodies he'd had made for his pets, and the elaborate teas his cook fixed for him daily.

Haruhi was a bit dazed by the enthusiasm with which he had expounded on this subject, but apparently the sparkling glow of his excitement had another effect – the women who waited by Morinozuka were silent, looking utterly taken – in a strangely innocent way, with Haninozuka's sudden cuteness.

Honey, relaxed, called out a cheerful hello to a new-comer, who blushed, tongue-tied at his shining.

Put at ease by Haruhi's presence and practice dance, Honey now asked a few other girls to dance. A collective sign came from the women as they danced off, coos and squeals emerging at Honey's "concentrating" face on the ballroom floor. Haruhi retook her spot beside Morinozuka, bemused.

"Has he always loved sweets that much?" she inquired, amazed at how one casual question had brought about a whole change of attitude and success in public settings. Morinozuka nodded soberly, and she silently gave up on understanding it.

She thought wryly that Haninozuka could now compete on level with Lord Suou – at least in the area of lady-killing. There likely wasn't an untouched heart in the room, after that display. The only problem Haruhi could now see was in picking which woman would be his bride.


	92. Regency: Sweet 2 70

**Honey & Bunny **

Two weeks later, though, Haruhi was forced to re-think her conclusion about the Viscount – Haninozuka was certainly more relaxed, and more frequently cheerful at Society gatherings, but for all that he could now charmed the ladies, Honey was not open with any of them, as he was with Morinozuka, or even Haruhi.

Morinozuka admitted some concerns; their time in Town was running out, and even as Haruhi doubted she could be any help to them, she couldn't forget the many times she had turned to both men for escape or help from a persistent suitor. So Haruhi promised to attend the next grand ball, to 'scout out' the prospects.

Lord Ootori mentioned his surprise at her plans on one of their afternoon drives; she had stopped refusing a few weeks after his second proposal, because it was easier to accept than to create credible excuses. Besides, _he_ didn't visit every day, which made it easier to handle the times when Lord Ootori did intrude upon her time.

At the start of the whole mess, she had allowed Lord Suou to interfere, as she was better able to put him off, but she had found over time that she was better equipped to handle a few provoking comments than non-stop flattery. The obligatory provoking comment _this_ time garnered only a shrug; even if Lord Ootori claimed friendship with Lord Haninozuka, the other man's business was known of his concern.

Kyouya shot her an assessing glance, hands light on the curricle ribbons, but didn't press further. Instead, he smiled.

"I look forward to having a dance with you," he said, and Haruhi merely nodded, resigned to the inevitability of their meeting there.

* * *

The weather the night of the ball was fair for the occasion, and even Haruhi felt a little excited to be going. The social idiocy that prevailed at such events still bothered her, but by now she could ignore it when she was distracted by her friends' concerns.

Immediately inside the ballroom the twins pounced upon Haruhi, pushing others to the side in their excitement at reuniting with her. They had travelled to their family's country estate to visit their parents two weeks ago, and had apparently _missed_ her. To her other side, Haninozuka was focusing on the bustling crowd of debutantes, a sight that seemed amusing to many, as it wrinkled up the skin around his eyes and mouth.

Haninozuka used the simple expedient of asking for Haruhi's hand for the second dance to separate her from the twins, a tactic that had yet to fail for either of them. He could be quite the chatterbox, once he let go of his ever-present need to search for new ladies, and comfortable with her, so Haruhi was hardly required to make a effort to keep up with his stream of converstaion as they danced. Just a quite look around told her that tonight's ball would be declared a crush; their hostess was likely ecstatic and frantic, trying to keep up with the demand for food and drink.

Meanwhile, the other lords at the edge of the floor quickly requested feminine hands for the dance, too well-bred to slack off in their duty, and eager to uphold their reputations as gentlemen.

After the first set of dances finished, Haruhi needed a break. However, to keep a fight from breaking out between the lords (never mind that they were _friends_, this was a woman) Haruhi asked Haninozuka to fetch her some refreshments, and Morinozuka agreed to fetch drinks for his latest partner.

The other four closed ranks around her, causing the young woman to give a resigned sigh, sniping more amongst themselves than actually addressing Haruhi; Kyouya held apart from the petty jibes this time, but did not venture to engage her, either.

In the refreshments room, Honey was trying to decide which cake Haruhi would want, and how much of each he could fit onto his own, slightly larger plate. He was so deep in contemplation over this that he didn't notice the young woman careening in his direction, and he straightened and turned at just the wrong moment. They crashed with resounding success; the girl went down in a flourish of skirts.

Honey, more fit than most of Society could ever guess, merely took a hasty step back, regaining his balance, though the force of the collision had knocked some of the breath from his lungs. There was a whimper from the floor; Honey looked down and lost the rest of his breath.

Two bright blue eyes, a shade darker than his own had filled with tears, and her hair, styled unusually down her back, was now spread on the floor. In other circumstances, this would look quite attractive, he imagined, but on the ground it was in danger of being stepped on.

Honey didn't really _notice_ any of this, however, for his attention had been caught on her mouth – namely, on the icing that was perched on her top lip, and a dab that had been smeared on her left cheek. Honey took a deep breath; he needed air to stay upright, for _this_, of all important moments. He carefully set aside his own plates and offered her a hand up, which she accepted with a watery smile. Standing, her eyes were right on level with his own, staring quite candidly back.

But her shaky composure quickly morphed into horror.

"My cake!" she wailed, spotting the pink cake that had been a victim of the fall upon the ground, and she gave a muffled yelp at seeing it on her white dress, too. "Mum's going to _kill_ me," she moaned, and looked ready to cry in earnest, this time.

Honey, dreadfully afraid of girls' tears (as they usually started his own in sympathy), fumbled frantically to offer his plate of strawberry cake, even as he was conscious of the extreme sacrifice – he'd taken one of the last pieces.

"Here," he said gruffly, putting it into her hands, and was blinded by her smile.

"Oh, _thank you_," she said, and he considered the possibility that someone _did_ understand the vital importance of strawberry cake.

"Haninozuka Mitsukuni," he said, introducing himself belatedly. Her eyes widened for a moment in recognition, then she offered a quick curtsey in return and a shy smile, tears gone.

"I'm Tsukino Usagi," she replied simply.

And Honey fell completely and irrevocably in love.

* * *

A/N: This chapter waited a long, long time to be revealed. In case you really don't know, Usagi means rabbit, or bunny, in Japanese, and 'Tsukino Usagi' is the main character from Sailor Moon.


	93. Regency: Delirious 3

Delirious

With a wide smile that promised love and utter devotion (and every other trait a woman could want), Lord Suou took her hand and bowed, then bore her off to the dance floor, and surprised, Haruhi had to scurry to keep up with his long strides.

He turned her deftly into the waltz that was beginning and they were off, her skirts swirling around her ankles as he maneuvered her perfectly.

For a moment, Haruhi felt as if she was dancing on clouds rather than the sturdy wooden floor, her feet barely touching the ground. Lord Suou led her into an intricate spin, and she felt the weight of hundreds of eyes on her, the unwitting focus of the room. The looks fixed on them were both envious and indulgent.

It felt exactly like what the girls at finishing school had gossiped about - being a Diamond of the season - or possibly the newest beauty, if Haruhi had ever considered what being _that _kind of person would have felt like.

"Let's stop," she said abruptly, and then did just that. Unfortunately, Lord Suou Tamaki, charmer extraordinare, was too caught up in his long-awaited dream to realize it was coming to a crashing halt, so when he met resistance, he kept moving – right on over her feet. Only a surprised yelp accompanied him to the floor. Haruhi winced at the resounding noise that seemed to bring the whole crowd to a stop.

_That was __**disturbing**_, Haruhi decided with a remembered shudder as she helped the young lord upright.

"Why don't you sit down for a moment," she suggested over his whimpers and tear-filled eyes. Suddenly, Lord Ootori was at her side.

"Yes, Tamaki; you shouldn't take such a fall lightly. Go sit down," he said, all polite solicitude that would have normally alerted Haruhi's defenses. But she was still too shaken by what had happened during the waltz. Lord Ootori led her away as a flock of white-clad debutantes descended on Lord Suou with sympathetic noises.

_Oh well,_ Haruhi thought fatalistically as moments later she took in Lord Ootori's grip on her hand, tucked firmly beneath his own in the crook of his arm. _At least this one doesn't make me feel like a fragile princess._

* * *

A/N: The theme was for Tamaki's delusions.


	94. Regency: Numbered 18

Numbered

Somehow or another, Haruhi had found herself paired with Lord Ootori at Lady Treversham's picnic. The estate was a little ways out of London, but the drive was always worth it, Society said, because their grounds were so beautiful.

Over lunch, Haruhi had been able to share the conversation between the others at their table, but once the group had finished, the walk to the lake was made in pairs. Haruhi wasn't so remiss as to moan aloud, but the small smile on Lord Ootori's face did not bode well for her.

Polite talk was held as they walked behind a couple who had become engaged last week, until the distance became far enough between them that Kyouya could begin his interrogation. Of course, he hadn't considered it such at first, until Miss Fujioka began to look tired.

Tired of his company, that is. With sudden and unusual thoughtfulness, he changed the topic of her schooling to that of business, something at least her father shared in common with him. And with all the time he had spent recently near the man, he had heard enough clues dropped about this woman's intelligence to believe she might find the subject amenable.

"Does your father plan on enlarging his holdings?" he asked, and she blinked in surprise, looking ready to give the normal response for young ladies of the ton – 'I wouldn't know' – but she pursed her lips and considered him, and then looked forward to watch where they were strolling.

"Yes." Her unequivocal statement made him grin, a very odd happenstance for the youngest Ootori, and he quickly schooled his face before she looked back to him. "Why do you ask?"

Her bluntness, perhaps unconsciously, released him to be just as straightforward, and their conversation became quite involved, ranging from their views on the growing middle class, to the market's increasing dependency on merchant ships, to the importance of demand and the quality of supplies, the place for factories and training employees...

After what felt like only minutes, Haruhi realized that she hadn't seen the backs of their fellow guests in quite some time. She looked ahead, and saw light reflecting off water through the trees.

Wasn't the walk to the lake supposed to take close to an hour? she wondered to herself. She turned to ask Lord Ootori about it, and realized he was still talking, face more animated than she had ever seen before, his eyes bright and sharp with intelligence. It was a jolt to the system, to suddenly be aware that he was _attractive_, and not just objectively cataloging him as handsome.

"Don't you agree?" he asked, and she nodded instictively, not wanting to interrupt him, or worse, have him notice her distraction.

"Do you think the others are far ahead?" she asked, not caring that she had abruptly changed the subject; she wasn't feeling comfortable in her skin, a very rare occurrence.

He blinked, quite noticeably shifting mental gears to keep up with her question.

"They're probably at the folly, to the right of the path near the lake," he explained, one long-fingered hand pointing to the spot. The rest of the walk was silent, both occupied with thoughts of the other, one thinking how perfect a wife she would be (once she realized the inevitability of such a conclusion), and the other wondering at her strange reaction to a person who had previously caused none in their acquaintanceship.

But despite that, Haruhi couldn't help but be pleased that she had engaged in a _real _conversation, at last. And she couldn't help but wonder why he had been so... perverse as to hide himself until today.


	95. Regency: Outside 49

Outside

It is the first masked ball Haruhi has attended since coming to Town, and for once she has let her father make all the decisions concerning her ballgown. Her reasoning had been that with Ryoji's overblown ideas, none of the lords who usually stuck to her would be able to identify her.

She believed her scheme would succeed because of two things: first, her mask covered nearly all of her face, causing her take a second look in the mirror at home, so altered did her features now appear. Second, her father had ordered the maids to powder her hair. Now it glimmered more gold and silver than brown, which she hoped would serve as an even better disguise.

A full set of her mother's jewels hung about her neck, wrists and coiffed hair, jewelry she would almost never allow her father to adorn her with - but she had felt that one night of relief would be worth it. If it weren't for the fact that she had passed right by Lord Tamaki near the entrance (without his noticing), she would have been annoyed by the heavy weight 'round her neck.

But instead, she is feeling the wonderful lightness of _freedom_.

* * *

"Tamaki," he cut in, causing the young woman who had captured Tamaki's attention to pout. "Have you seen Miss Fujioka tonight?"

The blond fell into a mournful state. "No," he replied. "She wouldn't tell me who she would be dressed as, and I haven't heard her voice _anywhere_."

Kyouya let himself relax, slightly. Of course Haruhi wouldn't tell the imbecile what she was coming as; she would never get away from him otherwise. Other than voice, though, he was probably going to have a time of it, discovering who and where she was in this squashed ballroom.

"Good evening to you both, then," Kyouya said before giving a courtesy bow to the young lady. Her offended tones drifted back to him as he quickly strode away.

_At least Tamaki is occupied._

* * *

Haruhi was having a good time.

So far, at least two young men she was certain she had never met had asked her to dance, and not only held her at the correct length, but proceeded to discuss rational, polite subjects with her. If they were a little facetious, she ignored it. Not everyone was interested in grain prices or the latest farming innovation.

With a final turn and a sweep of the song, she was neatly deposited back at her father's side. It was surprising that he had stayed this long, she thought, and took his arm as a matter of course. Dressed as he was, he looked more like her brother than her father, which was probably why so many men were suddenly approaching her.

"You're doing well," her father commented, and she wondered why his tone, even serious, could still sound so sarcastic.

"Will you escort me to the refreshment table?" she asked, politely ignoring his criticism of her partners, and they slipped through the crowd towards the smaller room. Haruhi was tempted to turn right back around, though, when she recognized Lord Kyouya's back as he served some young woman punch.

"Ah, Lord Kyouya!" her father called out, and she called upon years of patience not to sigh or let her head drop in resignation.

"Sir Fujioka," Kyouya greeted him back, glancing at Fujioka's companion and almost dismissing her. His gaze snapped back, however, when he realized that her eyes were carefully avoiding his.

"How are you enjoying the masquerade?" Kyouya asked politely, surreptitiously checking to see if the golden-haired lady was, in fact, the girl he had been searching for.

"A smashing success, I'm sure," Fujioka rejoined, and seemed amused by Kyouya's quick glances. "Lady Brumbley must be pleased."

Haruhi paid no attention to either of them, still hoping she could escape undetected.

"What are you supposed to be?" the other young woman suddenly asked, and Haruhi turned surprised eyes to her.

She missed the fact that the young lady had grown jealous of the men's marked attention to her.

"Marie Antoinette," Haruhi said, noticing that the other was most obviously supposed to be the goddess Venus, and Kyouya muffled a laugh behind his hand.

"Miss Simmons," he offered his arm. "Shall we return to the ballroom?"

Haruhi breathed a sigh of relief as they left.

"Something wrong?" her father asked, and she shook her head. For once, everything seemed to be going fine, she thought.

* * *

For once, everything seemed to be going perfectly, Kyouya thought. He had found Haruhi and would now know exactly what to look for when the time came. Tamaki was either occupied by the hovering ladies, or had decided that Haruhi wasn't going to show up. He hadn't bothered Kyouya in over an hour.

The twins had announced their intention of making it a 'memorable night,' before disappearing a half-hour earlier, and Honey and Mori had chosen to meet with Honey's prospective bride (and her family) for dinner, rather than attending the masquerade. There was only an hour left of the ball when Kyouya saw his chance. Haruhi had danced more than he had ever seen her do before, which disconcerted him until he realized that the young woman ended back at her father's side after every dance.

It seemed Fujioka had some sense left in him, after all. Decked out as she was, Haruhi was temptation to both fortune hunter and calf-eyed young man.

Actually, he mused as he made his way towards them, she was temptation, period. The disguise somehow highlighted her usual features, making him want to shake the gold dust from her hair and drag both mask and jewelry from her body. It was a somewhat foreign feeling to him, but since it was Haruhi, he was not going to worry about it just now.

Haruhi made a perfect Marie (likely thanks to Fujioka's eye for detail), but he was interested more by the knowledge of what she looked like (and acted like) _without_ the costume.

"May I have this dance, your Highness?" he asked, bowing deeply over her hand as though she really were the late French Queen. The slight pause had been expected, and he inwardly triumphed at this sign of what Haruhi would normally do. But she believed him still in ignorance of her identity, which meant there was no excuse to give for not accepting.

"It would be my pleasure," she replied, and the husky tones sent shivers up his spine. He glanced down at her head as they joined the couples on the floor. Perhaps there _was _something that the costume created that he hadn't taken into account, beyond the deeper tones of her voice.

Haruhi was always a mystery of some sort, usually because he could not understand how her mind worked, but tonight, the mask and jewels were creating the illusion of not just mystery, but of the possibility that he could unveil that mystery. It was a daunting and simultaneously exciting prospect.

Kyouya considered their situation one more time, before taking her into a twirl so involved that she didn't notice where he was leading until they were out of the ballroom and on the balcony.

"My lord, I'd like to return to the ballroom," she said, voice quite sensible but for the breathless quality; he wished he knew if it was the dance alone, or the unexpected situation.

"In just a moment," he reassured her. "The ballroom is becoming so warm, I thought you would appreciate a stroll."

As it was, Haruhi _was_ overheated from the crowding in the ballroom, and so she couldn't rightfully protest his logic. There was still, though, the feeling that she was walking into a dangerous situation.

* * *

It was an irresistible temptation, and an irresistible pull.

She was completely unguarded, unsuspecting, and finally alone with him, paying too much attention to not looking at him to realize how much he was looking at her. With one firm tug, she fell against him, making a surprised sound that was quickly cut off.

He watched for just a moment as her eyes went wide, and then closed his own so that he could focus on the kiss. It wasn't short, but he pulled away when she began to stiffen in his arms. With one arm around her waist he kept her close (and possibly from running), and with the other he carefully unmasked her.

"Hello, Haruhi," he said quietly, and she blinked up at him, stunned. She wasn't sure if it was the kiss that had turned her thinking into a huge, tangled knot, or the fact that he had clearly known it was her from the beginning.

"Lord Kyouya," she managed, and then had no other words. He watched her for a moment, glad that she wasn't the type to faint or scream. The steady, searching look she was giving him, though, with her eyes still so wide and deep, made him want to draw closer again – and that was unacceptable. He was a creature of control, and a second kiss would be a loss of that control, a release of the situation that for now remained calm by some chance luck or fate.

He was _not_ going to give her the chance to push him away.

So after a moment of cataloging her eyes as perhaps the most beautiful he had ever seen, he led them back to the ballroom. Her lips – that needed no consideration. Neither said a word more that evening, but when he kissed her hand instead of merely bowing over it when they returned to her father's side, her face went a distinct shade of red.

Fujioka watched the young lord with knowing eyes, but made no protest.

Kyouya left, feeling a major battle had just been won.

And Tamaki had missed it all.


	96. Regency: Call 46

Social Calls

It was the fourth such morning call, and Haruhi was convinced now that he would never give up.

She hadn't actually seen Lord Ootori yet; the butler had poked his head into the library to tell her who was keeping her father occupied, and by now, her father had likely worn down Lord Ootori's formal manners and they would be chatting about business.

This did not actually bother her. No matter how friendly her father became with any nobility, Ryoji would never actually force her into a marriage. What _bothered_ her was Ryoji's constant harping on the matter, as though nagging would change her mind.

Her reflection that morning in bed had had an effect – she was dreading the rest of their time in Town, and Ryoji had made no mention of when they would leave.

For the first time, Haruhi considered matrimony, even if it was just to escape her father's lecture. She didn't doubt his tenaciousness; she had inherited it from him, after all, and though she was sure she would win in refusing all offers, she was slowly coming to realize that her life was only going to become more monotonous from here on out.

Which left her wondering what she was going to do.

* * *

The older man welcomed Lord Ootori into his office, beginning the conversation almost immediately with news of a new venture being proposed amongst the more daring business men, which Kyouya had decided to hold off on joining. About half an hour later, they came to the inevitable reason for Kyouya's visit, and Ryoji, Sir Fujioka, shook his head, almost regretfully.

"She remains as sure of her course as ever, and I'm not fool enough to engage her without her consent," he admitted. Kyouya nodded silently, having known this would be the news ever before leaving his house that morning.

After a moment, Ryoji continued gingerly. "I would recommend… that you direct your energy elsewhere, unless you receive some sign from my daughter that you sincerely believe means that she might entertain your suit."

Kyouya smiled down at his hands grimly, turning the empty tumbler he had kept after accepting Ryoji's offer of a drink.

"I know full well that she doesn't want to marry," he informed the other man. "But for the same reason that I seek her out at every official event, I couldn't stop myself from coming here, at least once again." He signed, and covered his eyes with a hand, suddenly weary. "I apologize if I've caused trouble to your household. I seem to lose control of my own will, where your daughter is concerned."

Ryoji nodded thoughtfully, silently convinced that he would, if at all possible, support the other man should Haruhi show the slightest signs of wavering.

"If you must visit," he said lightly, "I have no objection. Were I not sure that Haruhi knows her own mind best, I would have overridden her decisions long ago."

And that, Kyouya thought with a hollowness in his chest, was that.

"Ah well," Ryoji said, even more blasé than before, "You'd better go see her now; I wonder how long she's been sitting waiting for our interview to be done."

Kyouya nodded, accepting the end of this reprieve, and went to offer his hand once again to the unmoveable young woman.


	97. Regency: Fun 19

All in Fun

The first time had been purely an impulse, born of a desire to see Tamaki Suou pushed past gentility. It was as close to a joke as Lord Kyouya Ootori would make concerning such a serious subject. Running into Tamaki just as he stepped out of his carriage had only made Kyouya _more_ reckless with his sudden proposal, and though he hadn't really wanted to end the day engaged to a cit's daughter (never mind the recent knighting), her immediate and blunt refusal had come as a surprise.

She had stood out the night before, of course, but he hadn't expected that to hold up once she'd heard what he was worth.

Standing in her beautiful, if impersonally styled parlor, he had glanced to the side at Tamaki, and been shaken to realize their expressions must have betrayed similar and undignified shock. He resolved right then and there not to make such a fool of himself again. If his father heard about this, he'd have a lecture to deliver, _if _word got out about how his youngest son had shamed his own consequence.

But when not even a hint of speculation or rumor reached him a week later, he re-evaluated Haruhi Fujioka yet again. He considered, too, the shock Tamaki must have been in, to not even realize the weapon he could have used against a perceived rival. At the same time, he acknowledged that Tamaki wasn't like most other young nobles; he fought his own battles, as stupid as that could seem at times.

When Kyouya found himself still interested in the mousy creature, he felt severely angery, with both himself _and_ her, for not recognizing exactly who she had rejected, no matter his original intentions. That unexplained anger had caused him to behave in a way he knew to be petty. Yet still, he sought her hand with more effort than he had gone to before, determined to force regret on her for her casual dismissal.

His second proposal had stemmed from frustration. Purely frustration, he told himself.

But when he left with yet another refusal in his ear, he admitted that frustration had been a minor part of it. He had, and was, sincerely curious about her, and not a little obsessed. She couldn't have interested him more if she had tried, he thought with wry humor on the ride back home. And he was convinced, now, that she was truly as unconcerned as she had said. It was unfortunate for her, certainly, but in no way changed his own plans, which formed at lightening-fast speed. Having been forced into respecting her, Kyouya set about learning what he could from the source itself. All his other avenues of information had been exhausted.

The third time, her disbelieving look at his entrance had _charmed_ him_–_! Which was certainly a new experience. He was becoming fond of the unexpected nature of her character. And though he had not really expected her answer to be different that third time, even with the progress he had made the previous night, it still disappointed him that she was as firm as before in her negative. They sat in the parlor, an awkward silence descending after her sharp refusal.

Kyouya was trying to think of some way to move them back into the tentative friendship that had sprung up between them recently, when Haruhi suddenly asked,

"Do you usually propose so frequently to ladies of the Ton? Or is it just for fun? Lord Suou seems serious enough, but for even Lord Hikaru and Lord Kaoru to visit Father…"

He blinked in surprise, and then chuckled unwillingly, considering the traffic Ryoji must have been dealing with. When he looked up again, she was frowning.

"It's not for fun," he quickly assured her. "Not on my part, at least," he amended, thinking of the twins. He considered trying to explain why she had become the favorite of the most eligible bachelors of this Season, but decided against it. Haruhi didn't understand the brand of logic used in Society, which was exactly _why_ they flocked to her. With another smile, he unconsciously relaxed into the gentleman who could, at times, be considered by Haruhi as a decent companion.

"Are you free tomorrow afternoon for a drive in the Park?" he inquired, and after a searching, suspicious look, Haruhi nodded. "Then I will wish you a good day."

He was deep in thought as the carriage drove through Town. Perhaps it was time to give the courting a rest, and see to his business interests a little more. He liked to think they had become friends, which was certainly a novel experience for Kyouya, but he wanted so much more. However, Haruhi had shown no sign of welcoming more from him. Used to winning what he wanted after turning his concentration to the matter, Kyouya ruefully acknowledged to himself that he did not remember how to give up.

He had come to care for Haruhi, though, and he wasn't sure how much more failure he could deal with regarding an issue that he had invested so much in. Considering her question again, he laughed, though with very little true humor.

If only she knew, he thought. If she only knew how little fun he was receiving from this these days.


	98. Regency: Break 104

Break

Honey and Usagi's engagement was announced a month after their first fateful meeting.

Haruhi was bemused by the speed of their courtship, but couldn't deny that they suited one another.

At first she thought their discussions of food and cute things would wear thin and the initial attraction would die away – and it did, but only because their discussions began to go deeper (deeper than sweets, at least).

And both seemed to shine in the other's presence, more calm and confident, even amongst the worst crowds.

Usagi even managed to draw Mori into regular communication, which was what had actually pushed Honey to propose.

As much as Honey thought he loved Usagi, he could never marry someone who his best friend couldn't get along with.

It had been his sole worry after meeting Usagi. Now that he knew Mori would never feel unwelcome in his home, with or without a wife in residence, he was completely carefree.

Their progressing relationship had Haruhi thinking more seriouslyl about marriage than she ever had in before.

* * *

Two days later, she faced head-on the realization that she had been lying to herself concerning her choices for the future.

She wanted a purposeful life, but that was out of her reach as things stood now. Ryouji wouldn't allow her to help him with his business long-term, no matter how forcefully she presented her points on how she could make his life more comfortable.

He didn't want comfortable, she realized now. Not if it meant his daughter might be missing out on something.

So there would be nothing but parties and balls until she showed a sincere change of heart.

Before, Ryouji had always accepted her plan to live with him and keep him organized, but it seemed that her eccentric father had grown up – which meant he was strongly encouraging his grown baby bird to fly free.

So. She had a lot of thinking to do, and then she would have to make a choice. Hopefully _before_ any circumstances beyond her control changed.

* * *

Haruhi had chosen Gunther's, a place she hardly frequented, as the place where she would make her decision today.

She'd bought an ice so as not to use the premises without buying anything, but had only taken one bite, which she hadn't tasted.

She was too busy thinking hard.

Her instinctual reply to Lord Ootori the other day was perhaps unfortunate, considering how things were looking now, but she still didn't regret it.

While the concept of marriage needed to be considered, Haruhi hadn't been prepared that day to make a commitment without proper forethought.

So she was thinking. Or trying to.

Not sure how to approach the previously disliked subject, she considered instead the men who had offered for her hand already.

The twins were obviously scratched out as options; even if they weren't unbearable in large doses, she knew they had proposed to her as a lark. It wouldn't surprise her, or even offend her, if they had made a bet out of it.

Lord Tamaki Suou bore some consideration; he was certainly serious, but that very fact was what made her want to shy away from him. She was afraid she'd let him down terribly as a wife, for while he acted the part of a worshipper at her feet (sometimes literally), she didn't think he really understood what she was like on a daily basis. He tended to ignore the faults in lady's characters, which was all well and good as a friend, but would likely cause problems in a marriage.

Besides, Haruhi was well aware of her own faults, and mostly unwilling to change them.

Which left her back at Lord Kyouya Ootori, whom she had just refused.

She sighed at the waste of thought and time, picked up her spoon, and then stared blankly at her ice.

Which looked much more like dilapidated lemonade.

Haruhi left it for the birds to try, and went instead to the bookstore. She might as well make use of her trip out to buy something she'd actually enjoy.

It was while she was at the bookshop that the answer came to her, very subtly, but very insistently as well.

She had not had a specific book in mind when she had entered, and as the shop was one of her preferred stops in Town, she intended to browse to relieve her churning mind.

A title caught her attention, and she stopped, frowning as she tried to remember why it seemed familiar.

A brief snatch of conversation floated up from recent memory; they had been walking in Kew Gardens, discussing agriculture, of all things.

"It's not a well-known treatise on the subject, but I found his observations very astute and precise. Much preferable to the usual sort who goes on for pages about the color and shape of crops and livestock," he had said, and she had apparently noted the information, for now she was considering purchasing the very book he'd mentioned.

Something about that stopped her, even as her hand rested on the dark spine, and she considered the memory again.

Then she pulled the book out and looked at it, not really seeing the burnished-gold lettering of the cover, but the intricate gold embroidery that had decorated his cuff at the last ball.

Five minutes later she was buying the book, and mentally reviewing what Mori and Honey had said they were planning on doing that day.

* * *

They were the only ones who had no self-interest concerning her, and the only real friends she had in Town.

As soon as she arrived home, she sent off missives to Honey and Mori.

The next afternoon she left the house, checking on the doorstep when she spotted an extra head in the waiting open carriage.

Haruhi greeted them all cheerfully, but wondered silently why she hadn't taken Honey's sweetheart into consideration. She would have to put off her discussion for later.

Several minutes into the ride she had run out of polite talk, and was feeling a little depressed.

A slender hand suddenly covered her own, and she looked up into concerned, corn-silk blue eyes.

"Miss Fujioka, I know we're not all that well acquainted, but if there's something you need to talk about, I promise to keep your confidence," Miss Tsukino said seriously. "I do hope that we can become friends, since you've been such a good friend to Honey-kun. And after all, friends help each other, right?"

Touched, Haruhi nodded, and decided that she should never have doubted Honey's judgment.

Glancing at the other two, and finding their attention also focused on her, Haruhi took a deep breath and began to explain.


	99. Regency: Lost 72

**Oddballs: 100 Situations**

**Number 72:Lost**

**CalebKing**

Kyouya was an indifferent horseman, in that while he could appreciate a well-bred and well-trained mount, he didn't feel the need to ride incessantly, or to race as so many of his fellow lords did.

Today, though, he was letting his mount have his head as they raced down Rotten Row, in an effort to clear his head from recent developments.

A sea venture he had advised his father to invest in several months ago had failed, all investments lost.

His father had not said anything to him when the news had come, but Kyouya had felt himself falling in the respect and esteem he'd fought so long and hard for.

After staying up all night, trying to figure out how he had misjudged the situation, he had no answers.

Now he was just angry, furious at himself for failing at this late date; for getting so cocky as to think his calculations were infallible.

This one error was bring back all of his past failures like a revolving nightmare, presenting themselves with jeers and criticism. His latest project also teased at his brain, making him wonder if he had held out hope too long – that it too was a failure that he hadn't been willing to acknowledge.

The possibility burned at him, and he toyed with the idea of retiring to the country until things had blown over. But it would seem like a retreat, too much the option of a defeated man, for him to really consider it.

Still, he might turn down the next few days' invitations, at least to begin with… he didn't think he could bear having to play nice when his temper was anything but.

"Lord Ootori!"

Something in the voice made him pull short on the reigns, even as he mentally grumbled.

He was _not _in the mood to exchange pleasantries with a simpering chit – with anyone, really.

Then he turned, and couldn't stop the shock from breaking across his face.

Haruhi Fujioka was urging a brown mare towards him, breaking away from Lord Morinozuka, Haninozuka and Miss Usagi Tsukino.

They looked on calmly, apparently not upset at Miss Fujioka's breaking from their evenly numbered party.

Haruhi had noted his expression and his appearance, and checked her horse's progress towards him.

"Lord Ootori?"

She sounded uncertain - looked uncertain – and Kyouya snapped back to himself.

"What a pleasant surprise," he said calmly. He spurred his horse and closed the distance between them, smiling blandly as his mind raced.

For the words were not a lie – he was pleased - and he now had a new mystery to work through.

His gaze flicked over her face, noting that she had regained her usual calm at his response, noting, too, the fact that she was initiating the conversation, and wondered what in _blazes_ had happened.

Their ride and conversation continued for a good twenty minutes before Haruhi excused herself back to her original party, and he rode towards his private lodgings with no thought of failure left to anger him.

Kyouya was reinvigorated, full of new plans and ideas, and restored in confidence.

He wasn't so stupid to think that this change in her behavior stemmed from anything he had done; he had cut off his normal visits since the day after his last offer.

Though he sensed he had Ryoji's approval, both men knew they did not have Haruhi's.

Now, however…

Kyouya didn't notice the stares he was attracting as he handed his horse over to a groom and strode inside, _smiling._

He'd gotten his sign.


	100. Regency: Hand 51

A/N: After months of working on this series (Regency), I'm finally posting again. I'll put up the remaining chapters as I have time; for now, I would recommend reading chapter 16 of High Society to understand why Haruhi's changed her mind.

Oddballs: 100 Situations

Number 51: Hand

CalebKing

It took him another week to try one last, final time. Though Kyouya was almost certain her behavior indicated a change in the way she regarded his suit, he couldn't be perfectly sure.

It had taken a while, but his confidence had been bruised. Even with the proof now before his eyes, it was impossible not to hesitate, just for a moment.

He'd kept the ostentatious ring, purely out of a desire to save face – but now he was determined to change it – simplify it, to suit her.

That was more like her personality, and she might, (might being the operative word), appreciate the gesture.

The irony was not lost on him that he was, for once, winning a woman's approval by giving her _less _jewelry.

But that was only one of the reasons why he wanted to marry her.

Though wouldn't matter to her at all, he changed shirts three times, his coat twice, and had to let his valet tie his cravat before he was ready. The fop-like behavior annoyed him, until he realized he was pacing his study in rapidly increasing steps.

He glanced at his hands – shaking slightly – and made a frustrated sound. Though it was two hours before decent calling times, he couldn't take the waiting. He'd made a decision, but for once didn't have the patience for his usual perfect timing. If he hadn't been so caught up in a tangle of thoughts, Kyouya would have realized it was the uncertainty of the outcome that had him unsettled.

It was rare, very rare, for Lord Kyouya Ootori not to know or be able to manage the outcome of one of his ventures.

He rationalized it on the way over to the house; Ryoji would welcome him (the business man turned aristocrat always did), and he could prod for advice when confronting the man's daughter.

-

Haruhi had actually left the house quite early that day, having been invited by Usagi to a private breakfast with the girl's friends and future brides maids. She had been a little wary of meeting more daughters of the Ton, but Usagi had assured her that her friends were different from the usual sort, and had pleaded with her to such an extent that the thought of trying to refuse had exhausted Haruhi before she even began.

Besides, if they were kind girls, it would be stupid not to try and be friends.

A few hours later she headed home, in a very different frame of mind than the one she had arrived in.

Usagi's friends were crazy.

But sweet.

They had been genuinely kind and interested in hearing about her experiences thus far in the Ton. All but one of the girls hated attending the Season, and avoided Town like the plague, admitting it was only for Usagi's sake that they had come.

Though it was a privilege to meet someone so likeminded, the quietest of Usagi's friends had announced before Haruhi left.

So Haruhi was content.

There had only been one disastrous moment, when Usagi had slyly hinted at a possible future engagement, and the girls had turned on her like starving wolves for details.

But one glare at Usagi and a continued refusal to gossip about herself (or anyone else) had eventually turned them back into normal girls.

-

At 12:07 the Fujioka butler stuck his head through the study door and raised his bushy white brows significantly at Sir Fujioka, and then Lord Ootori.

Kyouya cleared his throat, the discussion on 'Change careening to a stop.

"Excuse me, please," he said, giving Ryoji a courteous bow out of habit before exiting the room.

Ryoji watched him go, a small smile playing around his mouth at the younger man's distracted manner.

-

"The young lady is in the drawing room," the butler informed Kyouya once he was in the hallway.

The man gave him another significant look, which Kyouya nodded curtly to; he had no idea what the old man was trying to convey, but didn't want an audience to _this_ proposal.

A grunt, maybe of approval, sounded from the butler, and then he wandered back towards the entryway.

Mystified by the butler's possibly deteriorating mind, Kyouya had to re-gather his thoughts before entering the drawing room. He had just a moment to consider whether the man had informed Miss Fujioka to his presence in the house before he decided it wouldn't matter. His speech would stay the same.

He entered, then closed the door behind himself with a resolute click.

-

"Lord Ootori."

Haruhi was surprised to see him. After visiting with Usagi that morning, she somehow hadn't expected it.

But in a moment, she changed her mind. Of course he would act quickly. She should be more surprised that he hadn't come the day after she'd met him in the Park.

"Miss Fujioka," he bowed, returning her inadvertent greeting, and then approached where she sat near a low table.

Haruhi had been planning to write one of her friends back home; Arai was a much more diligent correspondent than she was, but now she thought that the procrastination would be to her advantage; she wouldn't have to re-write her letter.

"Miss Fujioka," he began, "I realize we've done this a few times by now, but I would like to assure you that, unlike before, I have a significant esteem for your opinion and your regard. I am quite sincere in asking your hand –"

"Yes, all right," she interrupted him, not eagerly and not rudely, but not completely business-like, either.

They had both been rude and inconsiderate in the course of their growing acquaintance, but it was time to move past that. She just didn't need to hear the rest to make her decision.

Kyouya was nonplussed. It was characteristic of his dealings with her that his plan had not gone smoothly, and he should have expected that. His carefully crafted explanation hadn't even moved into the reasons why it would be an advantageous match – for the both of them.

He wondered briefly if he should still attempt it, and nixed the idea in favor of accepting her answer as the outcome he had been aiming for.

He withdrew the ring he had spent valuable time selecting (created was perhaps more the truth, though the jeweler had been bought to secrecy), and held it out to her.

Haruhi took it with vague surprise; it certainly wasn't the one he'd presented on numerous occasions, so she looked with more interest than usual at it.

Translucent, muddy brown. She didn't think it was an insult, but couldn't understand it, either.

"To match your eyes," he murmured, having seen the question in her face, and asked, "May I put it on?"

She hesitated, then shrugged. It was essentially what she had agreed to, after all.

It was Kyouya, not Haruhi, who held his breath as he slipped it on her middle finger, and then sighed.

"A little too large. I'll have it fixed and bring it back in a few hours," he said, determined to have the thing permanently on her as soon as possible.

"Why?" she asked, interrupting his re-organization of the day's schedule. "I can just come with you."

He blinked behind his glasses, and then began to smile. It was mostly unconscious and completely out of his control, and Haruhi decided that he was pleased – though she had no idea why.

A bell rang deeper within the house, and Haruhi glanced at the mantel clock.

"Why don't we go after luncheon?" she suggested, already moving towards the door, her left hand curled to keep the ring from sliding off.

"Ah – very well," he said, taken off-guard.

He lingered in the drawing room doorway, wondering if that had been an invitation or a signal for him to depart.

"Are you coming?" she asked from down the hall, and he chuckled quietly to himself.

If he had thought getting her to say 'yes' was the end of the challenge, he had greatly underestimated the appeal of marrying her. It was almost enough to put a permanent smile on his face. Almost.


	101. Regency: Furious 41

Furious

She had agreed to a drive with Lord Suou a few days before Lord Ootori (Kyouya, as he now insisted on being called) had proposed. But now she was obligated by manners to keep her promise, though she was _not_ eager to expend the amount of energy she predicted would be necessary when explaining her news. She had hoped to be clear of the house before having to discuss it, but he noticed immediately. Of course.

"Ha-Haruhi!" he screeched, pointing wildly at her left hand while his carefully arrayed locks grew disordered from his flailing. She had flinched at the first high decibel, as well as a slight shock at hearing her name from him, but then she accepted his reaction as inevitable.

"Yes?" she replied calmly, as she lead him to the front door.

"W-Who? What? Did you –?" Pretending not to understand, (a strategy which was essentially ignoring him), she led the way out to his curricle. He automatically gave her a hand up the steps, still stuttering, but by the time she had arranged her skirts to the side, he was staring at her, his face unusually serious and concerned.

"That's not a ring I recognize; does that mean I haven't met him?" Suou asked. Haruhi looked down at the ring gracing her middle finger: a medium-sized piece of golden-brown amber, flanked by two small diamonds. It certainly wasn't a ring Lord Suou, or anyone else of her acquaintance in the Ton would be likely to recognize. But by tomorrow it wouldn't matter – the announcement would be in all the papers. That had been Ryouji's preference, and they had gladly acceded to his few requests.

"It's Lord Ootori's ring," she finally answered as they entered the Park, glad that no one else was close enough yet to overhear their conversation. Lord Suou sent her a bewildered, wounded look, and slowed his horses to a walk.

"Take a walk, Shirou-kun," he instructed his groom, who hopped off with an irritated eye roll at missing what was clearly going to be the _good_ gossip. "Why didn't you tell me?" Suou asked when they were alone, and Haruhi sighed gently.

"I am telling you, my lord," she disagreed. Tamaki shot her an annoyed look.

"So how long have you known?" he asked, voice trying for cold and uncaring, but sounding to her ears genuinely hurt. Haruhi considered his question, and assumed he was asking how long she'd known her own mind, and answered, "Two days."

The resulting jarring stop, in retrospect, should not have been unexpected, yet she had to grab wildly for the rail to regain her seat. The horses protested this rough treatment loudly, their training just barely keeping them from rearing. In the meantime, Tamaki had turned a pale, disbelieving face to her.

"Two days?" he repeated in a weak voice, looking bewildered. "Two days? So if I'd visited two days ago and asked –"

"No," she quickly interrupted him. "It wasn't like _that_. I… I believe Lord Ootori and I will suit well. We're very similar in some ways, which will make it easier for us to deal together, considering."

Tamaki didn't seem to like this answer anymore than the other he could have received (though admittedly, hearing a love confession for another from Haruhi's mouth would have been _too_ much), but he did start the horses walking again. Haruhi was just glad he didn't ask about that "considering."

"So you'll marry him," he murmured, but still retained his look of disbelief, so she made sure to answer him this time.

"Yes, I will."

Tamaki shook his head, and looked ready to add something else, when his eyes focused on someone up ahead. Haruhi had to quickly grab at her hat and the rail again as he set the horses to a trot. It happened so swiftly that she had no opportunity to shout a warning (if giving one had even occurred to her).

Tamaki pulled up beside a familiar looking man on a gray charger, and just as the man turned to see who was approaching at such a dangerous clip, Tamaki leaned out the side of his curricle, throwing his right fist perfectly into the jaw of one unsuspecting Kyouya Ootori. The momentum carried Lord Suou right out of the curricle, leaving Haruhi to grab frantically at the reigns and pull the horses to a stop, while Kyouya had followed the rule of gravite and toppled off the other side of his horse.

Still reeling a bit from surprise, it took Kyouya precious moments to get to his feet, and by that time Tamaki had his hands in the lapels of his coat, shaking him for all he was worth.

"How could you!" was his main cry, though many others, not fit for a lady's ears, filled the air. Haruhi, horrified, was tempted to direct the horses to walk over them both. Instead, she handed the reigns over to the quickly returned groom (out of breath from sprinting after them), and went to break up the uneven fight. Kyouya was just beginning to gain his feet, a storm cloud on his face when Haruhi stepped in and tried to force them apart.

"That's enough, Tamaki!" she shouted, startling him so much with the use of his first name (as well as hearing her upraised voice) that he let go of Kyouya. The bruised aristocrat was ready to take the opportunity to get some revenge for his jaw and his pride when Haruhi used the handholds Tamaki had created in his waistcoat to pull her fiancé's attention down to her.

"Enough," she repeated, though her tone was gentler. "You've already won."

Both males deflated at that, though for very different reasons.

"I'll escort you home," Kyouya said, ready to take her away from his rival, when Haruhi stopped him again with a hand on his arm.

"Lord Suou is more able to do that right now, and it's only fair that I finish our ride. I can't very well sit in front of you on your horse," she explained rationally. "I will see you later." She gave his jaw an bemused look, and then turned back to the curricle.

"Lord Suou?" she called, more or less demanding his escort. The blonde followed her bad-humouredly.

"Cor, Miss," was Shirou-kun's awed comment. Haruhi gave him a stern look, but her energy was all used up for teaching manners to boys. She sighed. She could only imagine the stories that would be flying 'round the ballrooms tonight, and she had no interest – none – in trying to combat them as Kyouya would likely desire her to.

Perhaps she would send a note around to Lord Mori and Honey.

"You'll see me now," she told Lord Suou firmly as he picked up the reigns, and after one final sulky look, Tamaki nodded.

Arriving back at her home, Haruhi could see that Lord Suou intended to drive off as soon as she stepped out of his curricle, but for once, that wasn't what she wanted. The day had contained one too many revelations, and now she had to do some making up for the damage she had done to someone she had only recently realized she might consider her friend.

"Won't you come in for tea?" she asked, having to force out the unfamiliar words. Tamaki was ready to refuse - 'til he saw how serious her face had become. Suddenly shamed by his behavior in the Park, and still reeling from the blow she had dealt, he nodded and handed his team off to Shirou.

Inside, Haruhi dispensed with their usual polite conversation.

"I would like to be your friend, if that is at all possible for you," she explained. "But if it is not, you must remember that my first consideration is to the man I am promised to. I am sorry I was not able to explain things in a better way, but I won't accept the way you've behaved any longer, if we're to be friends. No matter what complications arise from this point on, Lord Ootori is the one to whom my loyalty is owed."

Lord Suou looked as if he had bitten into something sour unexpectedly, but after a moment's thought, he nodded.

"I would not… admire you as I do, Miss Fujioka, if that wasn't the case," he replied, though he looked more tired, more worn, than Haruhi could ever remember having seen him. "Give me some time," he finally replied, having stared at the carpet for several minutes. "I need time," he repeated, and looked her in the eyes, as though unconsciously begging her. "Then I can try to be your friend."


	102. Regency: Creature 76

The Demon Lord (Makes an Appearance)

It was the morning after their wedding, and Haruhi was wondering if it was worth it to struggle out of bed. Tamaki had warned her, when they had first become engaged, that Kyouya had a terrible temper when provoked. Tamaki hadn't mentioned morning rage, but if the grumbles from her new husband's side of the bed every time she moved were anything to go by, she was going to have to get used to this unexpected part of his personality. And, she thought with a touch of irritation herself, she might have to change her daily schedule.

But then she let it go; if nothing else, it was a reminder that being married would bring all kinds of changes, to both of their lives. Not that she was uncomfortable; despite having her limbs tangled with his, (and that was _certainly_ a new experience), it was stranger to be awake and doing nothing while he slept like the dead next to her.

Haruhi wasn't used to feeling lazy.

After another five minutes she was done being patient, never mind possible explosions from a moody spouse. She withdrew one arm and then the other, and then one leg and tried to move back. His eyes opened a crack, and he glared at her.

_Well…_ she thought. "Kyouya, I need to get up," she told him, and got absolutely no response in return. She wondered if he was still asleep, and waved a hand before his eyes.

His scowl stayed the same.

She yanked the last limb free and scooted back; back so far that she fell right off the edge.

"Oof," she grunted with shock as her bum hit the floor. There was no response from the bed. Haruhi pushed herself up and walked around to take a better look at her new husband, grouch extraordinaire.

"Kyouya, I'm getting up," she informed him, and shook his shoulder slightly, so he couldn't blame her later for not telling him.

A growl emerged.

Haruhi rolled her eyes, wondering how the fact of his bad humor hadn't reached her ears before this, and then bent over and kissed his cheek. Then she rang for her maid, quite eager to get dressed; she was starving, and no wonder – it was half past eight.

Kyouya, still half-asleep with no intention of following his wife down to breakfast any time soon, wondered _how_ he could have married someone who was _cheery_ in the morning.


	103. Regency: Fan 82

Fan

When Lord Ootori walked into his study that afternoon, he was a bit surprised to find his wife there, looking troubled.

"I was under the impression that Honey left an hour past," he said, and sat down across from her, watching with silent approval as she served him tea exactly as he preferred it. Three lumps of sugar when in private; one when guests were present. His secret sweet tooth was something she had found highly entertaining after their marriage, and never passed up an opportunity during teatime to refer to it.

The fact that she handed off the cup with no quip was enough to slightly alarm him, though he took a few sips before deciding how to question her.

"Did some other visitors come by?" he asked, and she looked up at him, blinking in surprise. A small frown graced his lips; she had forgotten he was there.

"Yes," she responded, hands moving restlessly in her lap. His frown grew. Haruhi almost never fidgeted, unless _he_ was the one baiting her. It had become an exercise he prided himself on excelling at, since watching her usual calm fly out the window was a distinct pleasure he never grew tired of.

"So Honey didn't upset you," he said, but his tone indicated that she should inform him of who _had. _Giving him a wry grin, Haruhi held up her hand, displaying the item she had been fussing with.

"Tamaki brought me a fan," she told him, playing absently with the wooden slats. "And he taught me a few gestures…"

She then proceeded to make a motion which sent both dark eyebrows up into his hair.

"Precisely," she said, flushing a bit. Then she looked startled. "You know it's meaning, too?"

Kyouya was considering the many ways of killing a man and getting away with it as his wife leaned across the low table holding the tea tray. "Kyouya, does Tamaki know that _you _know?"

Kyouya highly doubted it, which was why he was presently considering the man's demise.

"Well, either way, I won't use it," she said decisively, pulling him out of his murderous thoughts. This was, of course, a welcome pronouncement to Kyouya, but even as his wife set the small fan on the table, his mind whirled.

"So…" he began, reaching for the thing. "Tamaki taught you a few of the signals?"

Haruhi gave him an odd look, uncertain about what he was thinking now. With a practiced flick, the fan opened into a blatant display, and he glanced at her over the decorated wood. After a moment, her eyes widened in disbelief. He gave a soft chuckle, and then nearly shut the fan, keeping it open only enough to make the gesture precise… before tapping it against his mouth. She gave a gasp, even guessing at what he had planned to do, and then, she smiled.

"Don't tell me that Tamaki has given you a new way to ask for such things," she teased him, but he merely regarded her patiently. After a few more moments of trying to hold back her smile, she rolled her eyes and stood up with a huff, crossing to leaning over and push the fan aside. The delicate peck was not what he had been asking for, and of course she knew that, as she immediately pulled away and gave him a wry look.

"I don't see any wisdom in rewarding bad behavior," she informed him, and made to leave. With a speed learned from many months of trying to catch her mid-escape, he grasped her wrist with unusual strength. By the time she ended up in his lap, Haruhi was fully disgruntled and looked ready for mutiny.

"I hate to admit to Tamaki having any intelligence, but this present was not such a bad idea," he said, continuing on over Haruhi's outraged look. "Not many people learn the language these days." He promptly tucked the fan into a coat pocket.

"Just imagine his face when I use it at tomorrow's ball," he murmured, and she gave an exasperated sigh at this sign that the stupid competition that was _still _going on. With a sudden surge, she was off his lap, a scowl fighting to stay in place.

"It would serve him right for giving me such an obnoxious gift," she finally said, glaring at him for good measure.

Kyouya chuckled suddenly. "Don't worry; I'll get you your own to respond with."

Tamaki would likely explode. The smile on Kyouya's face widened to disturbing proportions.

* * *

A/N: So many people said they went and researched fan language after reading this. In case you want to know which I was referring to, though: #22 and #5… Or check out 'Between Fans' which lists all the meanings used in the fan chapters.

take out the spaces: ( delval. /fan. html ) and for short videos: ( www. royalcollection. /eGallery/ ? exhibition FANSlang)


	104. Regency: Struggle 65

Struggle

It never failed to amaze Haruhi how fickle Society could be.

Just one evening of Lord Suou and Lord Ootori "dueling" it out with their fans, and suddenly, overnight, the whole population had acquired fans and seemed obsessed with learning the language. Kyouya took it in stride, of course, used to the Ton's frivolity.

However, it was only at the next opera they attended that Haruhi realized the real mischief such a trend could stir up. Just because _she_ hadn't been interested in using the fan herself didn't mean she hadn't picked up a few choice phrases. Especially not when her husband and his rival tended to throw silent messages to each other right in front of Haruhi's face.

This time, she was grateful to be sitting on Kyouya's right side, since Tamaki's box was situated to their left. There were no fans flailing wildly, no glinting smiles and red fury hovering over her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him draw it against his ear, leaving it there as though thinking; she looked away, not fooled, but not wanting to see the eruption a few boxes over, either.

At intermission, Tamaki was the first to barge into their box, smiling widely at Haruhi and thumping Kyouya playfully in the chest with the wooden fan. She watched with eyebrows raised as her husband grunted from the impact and glared at the blond. Haruhi sighed. This would have to be dealt with.

"Could you bring me some lemonade?" she asked Kyouya with a smile, and he paused, glancing at her with a frown. The bland expression she returned, though, seemed to be enough, and he left the box with one last look at Tamaki.

"Haruhi!" that man exclaimed, grabbing her hand and placing the usual extravagant kiss upon it.

"Lord Suou," she greeted him, and waved him towards a chair.

Amazingly enough, the twins had not yet burst upon them, which meant this was the perfect opportunity. With a flick she drew up her fan, previously unused, and regarded him gravely. She fanned herself slowly, and let her gaze rest on Tamaki's for a minute, making sure he got the message. Then she let it drop, closed, and smiled at him.

"Why don't we go see Lady Victoria?" she suggested, standing and glancing over at that family's box. He instinctively stood and offered his arm, and they left the box. His expression was slightly dazed.

She noticed, though, that he was playing with his fan as they walked the hall, opening and closing it with slow deliberation.

"Don't be stupid," she commented, and lifted her own, twirling it several times in her right hand, watching his face carefully. For a moment, he looked angry, and then hurt… and then he dropped his fan, and she smiled.

"Thank you," she said quietly before they entered the other box, and reached on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

* * *

A/N: For those who will go and look up the signals, there are six messages within this chapter. You can look under Between Fans for the meanings.


	105. Regency: Cry 10

A/N (3/14/13) - If you're looking for the new chapter(s), they will be tacked on to the beginning of the Mission arc (54 & eventually 55).

* * *

Cry

Koyomi Ootori was crying hysterically by the time his mother and his Nurse found him on the stairs.

"Now, now," Nurse clucked, and went to pick him up. As his cries escalated, though, Haruhi took him from the older woman with a smile.

"I think the new toy is to blame," she explained, glancing down at the bottom of the stairs where a wooden horse lay in two pieces.

"I'll see to it," Nurse said, and was soon conferring with the housekeeper on whether the toy could be fixed. Haruhi smiled slightly at their obvious devotion to Koyomi, and then went to her husband's study, quite pleased to win the argument about what age was appropriate for wooden toys.

Kyouya looked up with a slight grimace as they entered; Koyomi's cries had not diminished since being picked up, and with a muttered oath, his father dropped his pen and moved around the desk.

"Koyomi, crying is not fitting behavior for a young man," he told his progeny, and then struggled to keep from making a noise unfit for a matured man when his wife kicked him sharply in the shin. Cursing women's fashion and pointed shoes under his breath, he backed away.

"He's only one," she reminded him, glaring.

"One and a half," he argued back. Surely it wasn't too early to expect the child to be reasonable. Haruhi gave him another glare for good measure.

"You can't expect him to start doing sums for you in a few weeks," she reminded him, for perhaps the tenth time, and he had trouble keeping from scoffing.

The boy was an Ootori, and more particularly his son; he _would _be doing simple math by the time his birthday rolled around.

"That governess is useless," he said, and ignored the incredulous stare he got in reply.

"She's a Nurse, not a governess, you… you ass," Haruhi managed, and exasperated with his unrealistic expectations for the household, dropped Koyomi into his arms.

Her speed gave her an opening as he automatically grabbed the child without thinking.

Though of course Kyouya held his son on a daily basis, it was another thing entirely to deal with him fussy and screaming, rather than staring with proper awe.

With one smooth movement, Kyouya's spectacles were lobbed across the room, landing safely on the carpet but out of Kyouya's grasp. Haruhi watched them with growing amusement.

"At least he's learned how to fight you," she said, and ducked away from his scowl. When she slipped out the door, a small but wicked smile on her face, Kyouya began to understand the motivations his son might have for crying with such abandon.


End file.
